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Sidelights from 
Shakespeare 



ON THE 



Alcohol Problem 



Christine I. Tinling 



price Fifteen cents 



National Woman's Christian Temperance Union 
evanston, illinois 

e^Hfe»249 



V4* 



Copyright 1917 
National Woman's Christian Temperance Union 



A3 



NOV 26 1917 
)CI.A478664 



FOREWORD 

"My Shakespeare! 
Thou art alive still, while thy book doth live, 
And we have wits to read and praise to give." 

— Ben Jon son. 

Alcohol is on its trial. It has been arraigned before the bar 
of public opinion on at least a dozen counts. It stands accused 
of murder in the first degree and of every other crime. Many 
are the witnesses who bear testimony every day to its evil deeds ; 
on the other hand there are those who argue in its defense. 

Let us hear from a few of these as they speak to us from the 
pages of the immortal Shakespeare, giving faithful testimony 
to their innermost thoughts and feelings on this important sub- 
ject. They are as much alive as they ever were. We pass them 
on the street, and we live with them in the home, for human 
nature remains ever the same, and as for Shakespeare it has 
well been said of him, "He was not for an age but for all time." 

It is true we cannot call these witnesses into any court of 
law. Did we attempt to detain them they would "vanish into air, 
into thin air," and "like the baseless fabric of a vision leave not 
a rack behind." They are such stuff as dreams are made of, but 
they are none the less real for that. Nothing is more real than 
thought; it remains as strong and vital as ever when the brain 
that gave it birth has been moldering for centuries in the dust. 

In order to secure the testimony of these people we must 
catch them unawares. We must wait our opportunity and listen 
to their speech as they talk among themselves of their joys and 
sorrows, the "mingled yarn" that forms the warp and woof of life. 

Let us take five witnesses for the defense and five for the 
prosecution and listen to them with an open mind, considering 
carefully, not only each individual testimony but also the charac- 
ter of the witness. If we have learned the priceless lesson "to 
delight no less in truth than life," let us weigh the evidence pro 
and con as fairly and dispassionately as we may. Then in our 
own minds let "even-handed justice" prevail, as we pray that it 
may ever prevail in the greater court of our national government. 

Christine I. Tinling. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

1. Caliban and His God 5 

2. Stephana Practises Medicine 10 

3. Falstaff in Praise of Sack 14 

4. Falstaff and the Price of Sack 20 

5. Lady Macbeth and Her Motives 26 

6. Sir Toby and His Critics 33 

7. Cassio and the One Cup 39 

8. Cassio the Soldier 44 

9. Old Adam's Retrospect 49 

10. Old Adam's Reward 55 

11. Portia on the Power of Habit 60 

12. Hamlet on the National Issue 65 



SIDELIGHTS FROM 
SHAKESPEARE 



CALIBAN AND HIS GOD 
"That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor; I will kneel to him." 

Caliban has been sent by his good master Prospero to fetch 
some wood. As usual he goes slowly and unwillingly for he 
hates the duke for having dispossessed him many years ago. 
Formerly he lived here alone with his mother, a foul witch who 
for mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible was exiled from 
Argier and took' refuge on this desert island. 

He is a strange looking object as he waddles along; dwarfed 
in stature, "legged like a man" but with fin-like arms, and with 
long claws for nails. When Prospero and his little daughter 
Miranda, cast adrift by their enemies, were stranded here, the 
duke pitied Caliban and took him to live in his own cell. The 
creature could not even speak in those days, but only gabbled 
like a thing most brutish. Prospero, however, did not let an hour 
go by without teaching him one thing or another, so he gained 
after a while such simple knowledge as how to "name the 
greater light and how the less." Prospero allowed him to share 
such scanty comforts as he himself enjoyed. He trained him 
on the other hand to build the fire, bring in the wood and make 
himself useful in various ways. 

The kind man's efforts, however, have been in vain. Caliban 
is incorrigible; he cannot take any print of goodness, being 
capable of all ill. He is one on whose nature nurture will never 
stick, and as with age his body uglier grows, his mind cankers in 
like manner. 

As he loiters along bearing his load of wood he suddenly 
sees a man in an odd, variegated costume advancing towards him. 
But as no one lives on the island except himself, Prospero and 



6 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

Miranda, and as he has never seen any human shape except these 
and his witch mother, he thinks this must be a spirit sent to tor- 
ment him. He falls flat on the ground hoping thereby to escape 
notice. 

This is no spirit, however, but the jester of King Alonzo's 
company. They have all been wrecked and cast upon the island 
and are scattered here and there. A thunder storm is brewing 
and a huge black cloud is ready to burst, so this fellow Trinculo 
looks around for a shelter. 

There is not a tree in sight, no, not so much as a shrub, and he 
knows not where to hide his head. Suddenly turning he espies 
Caliban. "What have we here?" he cries, "a man or a fish? 
Dead or alive?" Though the form is suggestive of a fish, the 
dress makes him conclude this must be an islander recently killed 
by a thunderbolt. The "monster" is a curiosity surely, and if 
Trinculo can only take him to England he will make his fortune. 
But his immediate concern is to shelter from the storm, so he 
creeps under the creature's rough cloak or gaberdine and hides 
there. There they lie, presenting the appearance of a four- 
legged animal and looking between them even more monster-like 
than Caliban did before. 

Soon there comes along the drunken butler of the ship's com- 
pany, Stephano by name, bottle in hand as usual. He pours some 
of his liquor into the mouth of the strange animal, with what 
object we shall consider later. 

Let us see what impression it makes upon him. This is of 
interest to us because Caliban is no mere ugly oddity ; he stands 
as a type of man at his lowest, only slightly raised above the 
brute. He is of the earth, earthy, and represents the animal 
nature, just as Ariel stands for thought and rejoices in the free 
air as his natural element. 

Caliban is delighted with the draught. Hear what he says: 
"That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor; I will kneel to 
him. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the 
liquor is not earthly. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?" 
he cries. "Out of the moon, I do assure thee," says Stephano. 
"I was the man in the moon when time was." "I have seen 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 7 

thee in her," replies the credulous Caliban, "and I adore thee; 
my mistress showed me thee and thy dog and thy bush." 

Caliban cannot do enough for this lord of liquor; he prom- 
ises to show him every fertile inch of the island, pluck berries 
for him,, catch fish, dig for pig-nuts, in fact, do everything in 
his power for the "wondrous man" who has brought him this 
celestial boon, this more than earthly beverage, tasted and enjoyed 
now for the first time in his existence. 

No wonder that a poor monster, more like a tortoise than a 
man, is amazed when he first makes acquaintance with alcohol. 
It mystified the alchemists in the Middle Ages, who at first 
thought they had discovered the elixir that would give perpetual 
youth. They called it "aqua vitae" or water of life. The name 
"alcohol" was given to it because of its volatile nature. It is 
from two Arabic words signifying "most subtle." A few drops 
poured out would almost immediately disappear. Surely it was 
a strange substance! It gave peculiar sensations, too, a feeling 
of exuberance that was very pleasing. So, like Caliban, they 
considered it a celestial liquor, a beverage fit for gods, 
days with the process of distillation; they extracted what they 
called the "spirits of wine" from a fermented liquid. It is prob- 
things the art was for a long time forgotten. Albucassis, a 
Moorish physician, rediscovered it in the eleventh century and it 
was improved somewhat later by a certain Raimundus Lullus, 
a theologian of distinction. He lived in the island of Majorca 
and learned to love a girl who, alas, was suffering from an in- 
curable disease. He threw himself into the study of physic and 
chemistry in order to save his. sweetheart. This was impossible 
but he became a famous alchemist and specially busied himself 
with the improvement of distillation. 

Though the alchemists learned by means of heat to separate 
this volatile substance, this al kohl, they had no idea of its origin. 
This was shrouded in mystery. Mankind had, of course, known 
since Noah's time that when grapes were crushed and exposed 
to the air something was formed that would produce intoxication. 
But aeons were to roll by before men could read "in Nature's 
infinite book of secrecy" the story of how this came to pass. 



8 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

At last Louis Pasteur in the nineteenth century announced 
to the world that fermentation is due to a minute plant, the 
yeast cell, which lives and grows in solutions of sugar, and gives 
off alcohol as a waste product. Another scientist, Buchner, a 
few years later, submitted the yeast plant to great pressure and 
extracted from it a ferment which he called zymase. He showed 
that this is the agent that does the work of breaking up the 
molecule of sugar into two molecules of carbon dioxide and two 
molecules of alcohol. So now it is clear that alcohol is a waste 
product formed in connection with the splitting up of sugar. 
In other words it is a result of decomposition. The work of the 
yeast plant is thus the exact opposite of that of the green plant 
cell. The green plant takes carbon dioxide and water and builds 
them up into a useful food, sugar, whereas the yeast plant uses 
sugar and breaks it down into carbon dioxide and alcohol. 

This excretion, like others, is injurious to the cell that pro- 
duces it and to all higher forms of life. It is well known that 
the bodies of all plants and animals, including man, are com- 
posed of the minute masses that we call cells. Cells have a few 
essential needs. One is water; another is oxygen. Alcohol has 
an affinity for both of these substances; it readily combines 
with them and thus deprives the cell of part of its supply. 

Cells consist largely of protoplasm. It resembles the white 
of an egg, but is a very complex material consisting chiefly of 
the class of compounds known as proteins. Alcohol is hurtful 
to protein and causes it to coagulate or clot. These three simple 
facts are sufficient to explain in large measure the injurious 
effects which follow its use. 

As regards its character this toxin is narcotic, that is, if taken 
in sufficient doses it causes narcosis or stupor. In the days 
before chloroform was known it was often used in operations 
to deaden the sense of pain. It belongs indeed to the same group 
of substances as chloroform, ether and chloral, and is classed as 
an anesthetic. Therefore, by reason of its very nature it can- 
not be suitable for beverage use. 

Because, however, it gives a temporary feeling of elation 
those who are ruled by impulse rather than by reason will nat- 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 9 

turally be in favor of it. Caliban stands as a representative of 
that great host who live for the satisfaction of the lower nature, 
the animal appetites. All these must be counted among the Pros ; 
if they say anything they will bear witness for the defense. 

We shall soon hear from others of a very different type, some 
of them persons of intelligence and influence. All the sup- 
porters of alcohol are not Calibans by any means, but prac- 
tically all the Calibans are supporters of alcohol, and this is to 
be expected. 

Their cry is "Liberty," and here again our poor monster 
perfectly represents them. Having tasted the joys of alcohol 
he determines to break loose from his master, Prospero, the 
benefactor to whom he owes so much. Hear him sing: 

"No more dams I'll make for fish 

Nor fetch in firing 

At requiring, 
Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish. 
Ban, Ban, Caliban, 
Has a new master ; get a new man." 

He will not serve Wisdom as it is personified in Prospero; 
he prefers to serve Appetite. 

"Heyday, Freedom !" he shouts, "Freedom, Freedom," and 
all the time he is a miserable slave, ready to resign every advan- 
tage of civilization for the new-found joys of the bottle. Nay, 
this "thing of darkness" will kill if possible the man to whom 
he owes everything, even the very gift of language, and will cast 
himself down in abject submission before the one who can sup- 
ply him with strong drink, crying, "I prithee be my god," and 
protesting that he will be for aye his foot-licker. 

What a picture of humanity reduced to its lowest terms! 
Such is our first witness for the defense of alcohol, Caliban, the 
deserter of Wisdom, the willing slave of Appetite. 



10 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

II 

STEPHANO PRACTICES MEDICINE 

"He shall taste of my bottle; it will go near to remove his fit." 

Let us now look a little more carefully at Stephano and in- 
quire why he is so ready to share his precious liquor with the 
strange creature he has found upon the shore. 

The ship's butler prides himself on not being easily frightened ; 
no man can make him give ground. But he is considerably 
startled when he sees prone on the earth this four-legged ani- 
mal in a man's clothing. "What's the matter?" he exclaims. 
"Have we devils here?" Caliban has been quite scared at the 
sight of Trinculo, taking him, as we have seen, for one of his 
master's spirits come to punish him. Now, as the jester has 
crept under his gaberdine, his fears increase and he cries out in 
dread, "Do not torment me, O !" Poor creature, he is trembling 
in every limb, and no wonder. He knows from experience how 
effectually Prospero can punish and how his invisible ministers 
can fill his skin with pinches. 

Stephano concludes he is no devil but a monster of the isle 
with four legs. He can talk, too, and he speaks Italian. Won- 
der of wonders, that wrecked on a desert island Stephano should 
find someone who uses his own mother tongue. "I will give 
him relief," he says, "if it be but for that." But not for this 
reason alone does he apply the precious bottle to the monster's" 
mouth. He begins to think as Trinculo had done a few mo- 
ments before what a curiosity this creature would be in his own 
land. But the poor thing is evidently very sick ; he is still shak- 
ing violently. He has a fit of some kind, probably the ague. 
"If I can recover him and keep him tame," soliloquizes the 
butler, "and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any 
emperor that ever trod on neat's leather." 

Caliban's terror does not diminish. He knows not what this 
being who has wormed himself into his gabardine is going to 
do next. "Do not torment me," he begs, "I'll bring my wood 
home faster." 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 11 

"He's in his fit now," thinks Stephano, "and does not talk 
after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never 
drunk wine afore it will go near to remove his fit. Open your 
mouth," he says, with rough good nature, "here is that which 
will give language to you. Open your mouth; this will shake 
your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly. You cannot tell 
who's your friend"; and as Caliban responds to the invitation 
he continues to encourage him, "Open your chaps again." 

But now Trinculo recognizes the voice of his old chum and 
cries out in fear and wonder. "Four legs and two voices," 
exclaims Stephano, "a most delicate monster. If all the wine in 
my bottle will recover him I will help his ague. Come, I will 
pour some in thy other mouth." 

In short, Stephano is a firm believer in the efficacy of alco- 
hol as a medicine. It will cure a fit be it ague or what not, and 
by this panacea for the ills that flesh is heir to he will restore 
the monster and make his fortune. 

It was inevitable that through the centuries mankind should 
look on alcohol as a help in sickness. It removes pain, lessens 
fatigue, and gives a sense of well-being. These effects, as we 
now understand, are delusive; they are simply due to the fact 
that it is an anesthetic. It is because alcohol narcotizes the 
nerves that the sense of pain is diminished; the trouble remains 
the same, if indeed it is not increased. 

Until shortly before Shakespeare's time the science of medi- 
cine was in its age-long infancy. We obtain a faint idea of how 
great was the lack of scientific knowledge if we examine one of 
the statutes passed a few years before the poet's birth : 

"In the parliament holden at Westminster in the thirde year 
of the King's most gracious reigne for the advoyding of sorce- 
ryes, witchecraft and other inconveniences it was enacted that 
no persone within the Citie of London should take upon him to 
exercyse and occupie as Phisician and Surgeon except he be 
first examyned, approved and admytted by the Bishopp of 
London." 

That a cleric was the chief authority in matters of medicine 
and that sorcery and withcraft were means used by many who 



12 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

called themselves doctors, are two facts sufficient in themselves to 
give us a picture of the ignorance of the time. 

In the Dark Ages the monks were the dispensers of physic. 
They had a few recipes which they prescribed for the most com- 
mon diseases and if people did not recover on account of taking 
them, they often did so in spite of taking them and gave the 
monks the credit. Doubtless, too, they sometimes deserved it. 

With the sixteenth century came the revival of learning in 
all the European countries, and among the many studies which 
received new impetus medicine was one of the most prominent. 
Men began to read the works of the ancient physicians in the 
original instead of trusting as heretofore to translations from 
the Latin and the Arabic. Better still, they began to explore 
nature's secrets for themselves. The brave Vesalius in spite of 
derision and obloquy dissected the human body and laid the 
foundation of the science of anatomy. Harvey, whose name 
marks an epoch in the history of medicine, was a contemporary 
of Shakespeare. He may be said to have instituted a scientific 
method in physiology but his great discovery was not given to 
the world until after the poet's -death. 

* This, then, was essentially a transition period. The light of 
science was indeed breaking, but the mists and vapors of igno- 
rance had not been entirely dissipated. Great discoveries were 
being made and at the same moment men in high esteem in the 
medical world were writing the most utter rubbish. 

The doctors were still to a large extent alchemists and would 
sell charms and philtres that were supposed to possess mysterious 
power. They long believed in the medicinal value of gold ; when 
it was acted upon by lemon juice, honey, salt and alcohol, and 
repeatedly distilled, it was said to "heal every disease that is 
thought incurable in the space of seven daies at the furthest." 
We find "mummy" mentioned in Shakespeare. That was a 
magical mixture, whose name is suggestive of its source, and 
both long before and long after the poet's time it was used as a 
medicine. The charming and chatty writer, Sir Thomas Browne, 
says that Francis the First always carried mummy about with 
him and relied upon it as a standby in all disorders. 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 13 

Shakespeare's medical knowledge was remarkable. His mar- 
velous mind would appear to have assimilated practically all the 
learning of his age on this subject. We are even tempted now 
and then to wonder if he saw beyond his time, so scientifically 
true are some of his statements regarding matters which were 
then only partially understood. 

Compared with the follies above mentioned, the use of alco- 
hol as a medicine seems almost sensible and certainly it was 
entirely natural. Theoricus, a German writer of the sixteenth 
century, says : "It sloweth age, it strengtheneth youth, it helpeth 
digestion, it cureth the hydropsia, it keepeth the head from 
whirling, the teeth from chattering, the throat from rattling, the 
heart from swelling, the hands from shivering, the sinews from 
shrinking, the veins from crumbling and the bones from 
aching." 

Long has alcohol held its place, but our own day has wit- 
nessed a remarkable change in medical opinion. Modern con- 
viction is expressed in a nutshell in the words of Dr. Norman 
Kerr: "Alcohol is the pathological fraud of frauds." Sir 
Victor Horsley says : "It is of no more use in disease than it is 
in health." No one pretends in these days that it will go near to 
remove a fit. 

One of the things of prime importance in sickness is the 
elimination of poisons, and the presence of alcohol retards this 
process because it reduces the amount of oxygen in the system. 
Add to this the fact that it is a depressant, interfering with all 
the vital functions, and it will hardly seem necessary to mention 
in further detail the ways in which alcohol acts as an ally to 
disease. 

A canvass was recently made among American physicians in 
order to determine their present attitude towards alcohol and to 
compare the medical opinion of today with that of a few years 
ago. A number of hospital authorities stated that practically no 
alcohol is now used as a medicine in their institution. Several 
said there had been a decrease of seventy-five per cent in the last 
five years and others put it as high as ninety per cent. 



14 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

One somewhat amusing reply was to this effect: "Alcohol 
is sometimes valuable in fractional doses to allay the anxiety of 
patients and friends." That is, though the doctor knows it is 
worse than useless he may feel obliged to prescribe it because the 
patient in his ignorance so desires. 

The weighty words of Dr. Howard A. Kelly of Johns Hop- 
kins University are a warning to all who in the medical faculty 
or out of it are inclined to tamper with this insidious poison: 
"It is clear, in the light of experience and of recent research 
work, that alcohol should be classed in the list of dangerous 
drugs, along with morphine, cocaine and chloral. On the basis 
of experience I appeal to my colleagues everywhere to abjure 
its use." 

Alcohol will ere long be relegated to the same limbo as 
mummy, and remembered only as illustrating the follies of a 
bygone age. 



Ill 

FALSTAFF IN PRAISE OF SACK 

"If I had a thousand sons I would teach them to addict 
themselves to sack." 

London in Shakespeare's time was a very different city from 
what it is today. Could we be carried back three hundred years 
and set down in the midst of it we should hardly know it for the 
same place. The Tower would, indeed, be there, and away in 
the distance, separated from the city by miles of meadows, we 
might recognize the Houses of Parliament. But even St. Paul's 
would not be the same cathedral that we are acquainted with 
today. Old London Bridge would attract our attention with its 
high gate-tower at each end and perhaps some traitor's head 
looking grimly down from the wall. 

The streets of those days were narrow and very dirty. It was 
only in the reign of Henry the Eighth that the work of paving 
them was begun. Round stones were used and were placed in the 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 15 

most irregular fashion so that walking and riding alike were 
more of a penance than a pleasure. This was especially true 
after dark as there were as yet no street lights. The sidewalks 
were narrow and crowded and a gutter ran down the middle of 
the road into which refuse of all kinds was flung. 

There were few vehicles to be seen. The rich went on horse- 
back, followed by footmen; pack animals carried the merchants' 
wares, and porters hurried to and fro laden with sacks of coal 
and vegetables. 

We may still see a street named Eastcheap but the original 
one of that name was done away with, together with many other 
courts and alleys, when the neighborhood of London Bridge was 
renovated years ago. Long before that time the Boar's Head, 
dear to FalstafT, had disappeared. It was destroyed in the 
Great Fire of 1666 after having been famous as a hostelry since 
the days of the Plantagenets, if not before. There are records 
telling of a riot there two hundred years before Shakespeare's 
time. After the fire the inn was rebuilt on the old site and when 
at last it was pulled down one stone from between the front win- 
dows was preserved as a relic. It bears the carving of a boar's 
head and is still to be seen in the. Guild Hall Museum. 

The Elizabethan age was characterized by a spirit of socia- 
bility and the taverns were the general rendezvous of all classes. 
There the courtiers were wont to wile away the time, and there 
the poets, artists and wits discussed all subjects under the sun. 
In these social gatherings they disposed of vast quantities of 
liquor of various sorts, both home-made and imported. 

Among the English beverages, besides the immemorial ale 
and beer, were mead made from honey, strawberry drink, cider 
and cherry wine. Some of them were concocted with exceeding 
care ; for instance, a drink named white meath contained no less 
than twenty-three different herbs. 

Many wines were imported from Spain, Italy and France, 
fifty-six varieties from the last named country alone. The favor- 
ite of them all was sherris sack, made forever famous by its con- 
nection with FalstafT. It obtained the first part of its name from 



16 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

Xeres in Spain, and the second from the French word "sec" 
which means "dry." 

Falstaff is never happy unless he is drinking sack. He is 
always calling for a cup of sack or a quart of sack or a bottle 
of sack. The word seems to be oftener than any other on his 
lips. He puts sugar into it and sometimes also toast. He gets 
very cross when he finds lime therein, which the makers occa- 
sionally used as a preservative. In short he and his sack are 
inseparable, so that "if sack and sugar be a fault," he feels he is 
certainly in need of ftiercy. 

Falstaff has been characterized as "the wine god of merry 
England." He is a sort of Bacchus, knowing none of the con- 
siderations of propriety that act as a restraint on society in gen- 
eral. He is utterly without conscience and utterly without shame, 
and lives simply to gratify his lower nature in every possible 
way. But he is so irresistibly witty that we are captivated in 
spite of ourselves, and his fun is doubly funny emerging from 
this absurd looking ton of flesh. So in spite of his evil deeds and 
his worthless character, he remains the prime favorite of the 
comic stage. Of all those who testify in favor of liquor he is the 
most weighty witness. Let us hear what he says : 

"A good sherris sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It 
ascends me into the brain ; dries me there all the foolish, dull and 
crudy vapors which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, 
full of nimble, fiery and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er 
to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. 

"The second property of your excellent sherris is the warm- 
ing of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver 
white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and coward- 
ice; but the sherris warms it and makes it course from the in- 
wards to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face which, as a 
beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, 
to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits 
muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puffed 
up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valor 
comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing with- 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 17 

out sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of 
gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and 
use." 

A very clear testimony this, naturally divided into two parts. 
Sack gives wit ; sack gives warmth. As warm blood means cour- 
age and cool blood cowardice, it follows that sack gives valor. 
If this can be proved true, it must surely be a precious boon to 
humankind, and for want of it the total abstainer is suffering 
grievous detriment to both body and mind. Let us examine more 
carefully this claim of the fat knight. 

Strong drink goes to the brain, he says, and dries up the 
fogs that dull it, so that it becomes nimble and alert and the 
imagination is quickened. Then, when the tongue gives birth 
to the bright ideas thus engendered, we have wit. He seems to 
have a pretty good conception of the physiology of his age. It 
was taught by Hippocrates, the father of medicine, and still be- 
lieved in Shakespeare's time, that the brain, being of a spongy 
texture, sucked up the superfluous humore of the body. 'The 
head," we read, "being hollow and round, draws incessantly, 
like a sort of cupping glass, the moisture from the rest of the 
body, which rises in a vapor." Such was the old idea. 

Modern science tells us that alcohol does indeed readily com- 
bine with water, for which it has an affinity. So far Falstaff" 
is right. But the dull, crudy vapors of which he speaks of course 
do not exist. Alcohol combines with the water in the tissues. 
Every tissue consists largely of water and the delicate soft sub- 
stance of the brain is no exception. Alcohol withdraws water 
from it and thus has a hardening effect, more or less apparent 
according to the quantity used. For this reason the great anato- 
mist, Hyrti, said that he could distinguish in the dark, by one 
touch of his scalpel, the brain of a drunkard from that of a 
sober man. 

The idea that liquor stimulates the thinking powers and 
makes the user more brilliant and more witty than he would 
otherwise be, is one of the many misconceptions that have long 
persisted but are now dying out. It may be explained very 
simply. Alcohol narcotizes those higher centres of the brain 



18 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

that are concerned with judgment, and so a man is more easily 
satisfied with himself while under its influence. He thinks him- 
self witty and indeed wonderful because the power of criticism 
is temporarily dormant. Naturally, when all the members of a 
group partake of the same illusive draught they are apt to be 
a highly self-satisfied company. It has been well said that "drink 
creates the conditions in which any sort of conversation seems 
good conversation, any sort of wit seems good wit, any sort of 
company seems good company, and it may be added any sort of 
drink seems good drink." 

To return to Falstaff's oration in praise of sack. He says the 
second thing this excellent sherris does is to warm the blood; 
it causes the spirits to muster to their captain, the heart, and 
hence results courage. This may be explained by reference to 
another belief that was held in Shakespeare's time. It was 
thought that the arteries contained no blood but only vital spirits. 
This notion obtained because they were found empty after death. 
The very name artery is from two Greek words meaning to "keep 
air" and it was taught that if they did hold any blood at all it 
was but a small amount mixed with the vital spirits. The veins 
were considered to be the chief blood vessels and in them the 
current was supposed to move to and fro. The blood was said 
to be propelled from the heart by the act of inspiration and 
brought back again by each expiration. Thus the medical men 
of the sixteenth century taught that the blood flowed, but it 
remained for Harvey to announce later that it moved in a 
circle. The old idea was that of the ebb and flow of a tide. 

FalstafF holds that alcohol helps this movement and increases 
the heat of the body. It was quite natural to suppose that liquor 
warms the blood, for it does indeed give a sensation of warmth, 
and in those days people had little besides sensation to go by. 
As a matter of fact it reduces the temperature, sometimes only 
a little, sometimes as much as five or six degrees. This explains 
the fact that men who have been drinking and stay out all night 
frequently die of exposure. 

The blood vessels, as we now know, are regulated by nerves. 
In cold weather these nerves cause the vessels in the skin to 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 19 

diminish in size and thus reduce their capacity for holding blood. 
There is therefore less blood in the skin and more in the internal 
regions and heat is in this way conserved. Alcohol paralyzes 
these vaso-motor nerves and they cease to control the blood ves- 
sels. The latter are thus not lessened in caliber as they ought 
to be, and so blood flows freely through them. As blood is warm 
this gives the comfortable feeling the drinker desires. He does 
not understand that, far from gaining heat, he has only brought 
it to the surface where it is largely abstracted by the cold air 
without. Alcohol causes the user to lose heat to so great an 
extent that the modern Arctic explorer does not dare to include 
it in his kit. 

So it seems that after all sack does not give wit but only 
makes a man think he is witty ; it does not give warmth, but only 
makes a man think he is warm. How about the claim that it 
imparts courage? Multitudes would back up Falstaff in this 
assertion and not without reason. Take, for instance, Trinculo 
who says : "Was there ever a man a coward that hath drunk so 
much sack as I today?" Liquor does indeed infuse into its 
patron what is known as "Dutch courage," a bravado that renders 
him ready to fight, often on no pretence whatever. He feels 
"very hot and valiant" even though he be by nature far from 
pugnacious. It is for the same oft-repeated reason that the 
higher centers of the brain are benumbed and he cannot judge 
of the matter in hand, neither does he realize the risk that he runs 
in fighting. He thinks he is brave whereas he is only stupid. 

Sir Jack, however, has no right to be talking about courage. 
Indeed it is an instance of his consummate impudence that he can 
take the word upon his lips at all. He is laughing in his sleeve 
as he does so, for he knows very well that he is as arrant a 
coward as ever was born. One time only does he gain a reputa- 
tion for valor and that is when he stumbles into camp bearing 
the body of the redoubtable Percy whom he says he has slain. 
It was the Prince, however, who did that deed, and Falstaff 
steals the honor from his chum because he is utterly incapable of 
winning renown by any exploits of his own. Sack's claim to be 



20 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

a courage-giver would win scant credence, indeed, if Falstaff 
were its only exponent. 

One thing, however, that this witness says is incontrovertible, 
namely, that sack illumineth the face, making it resemble a bea- 
con or fire. This is an illustration of the effect on the blood 
vessels just mentioned. When the nerves controlling the minute 
vessels in the skin are deadened by the narcotic poison these 
latter become distended and the result is the well-known appear- 
ance of the drinker's face. But this is hardly to be reckoned as 
a point in favor of the excellent sherris sack. 

One thing, however, is clear. Falstaff enjoys his drink. If 
his physiology will not stand the test of modern science that is 
not of the smallest consequence. We are almost ashamed to 
take him seriously even for* an instant. He does not drink his 
glass because the doctor says it is good for the heart and liver 
and brain. He drinks it because he likes it and likes the good 
times that are associated with it and the jovial company. He 
stands before us as the representative of a great host who are 
bent on enjoying themselves. Pleasure they seek and pleasure 
they obtain. But before we let Falstaff go we will ask him how 
much they pay for it. 



IV 
FALSTAFF AND THE PRICE OF SACK 

"This gout plays the rogue with my great toe." 

"Pleasure will be paid." In these four words Shakespeare 
reminds us of a truth that is too apt to be forgotten. It holds 
good of all sorts of pleasure without exception. Intellectual 
enjoyment can be obtained only through hard work; the 
rewards of the spiritual life are won through sacrifice; and 
this is equally true of the physical pleasures that mean so 
much to a Falstaff. They have their price. 

He is an extreme example of the devotee of enjoyment. 
He lives to have a good time, eating and drinking and making 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 21 

merry. He has nothing in the world to do but minister to 
himself, and he attempts nothing else, for we certainly can- 
not take his soldiering seriously. Moreover he is not in any 
way hindered in the pursuit of selfish enjoyment. Most peo- 
ple have a conscience which every now and then makes its 
voice heard, and a conscience is apt to be a source of great 
discomfort. But FalstafT does not feel this deity in his bosom 
and is not bothered by it except very slightly and very seldom. 
Whatever pleasure, therefore, is to be found in ministering 
to the bodily appetites he may indulge in without let or hindrance. 

Since, however, "pleasure will be paid," it is worth while 
to enquire "What does Falstaff give for it, and is it worth 
the price?" 

First of all, then, it costs him a good deal of money, and 
also of inconvenience when money runs short. He tells the 
little page to look in his purse and see how much is there, 
and the answer is "seven groats and twopence" or about 
sixty cents. "I can get no remedy against this consumption 
of the purse," says he, "borrowing only lingers and lingers 
it out, but the disease is incurable." No wonder. Everyone 
who has an expensive taste, such as the appetite for alcohol 
or tobacco, finds to his regret that his purse is afflicted with 
consumption. Take for instance the cost of a single dinner 
which any sensible man, then as now, could get for a modest 
sum. Here is FalstafFs bill : 

"Item A capon 2s 2d 

" Sauce 4d 

" Sack, two gallons 5s 8d 

" Anchovies and sack after 

supper 2s 6d 

" Bread >4d" 

"O monstrous," cries Prince Hal when he finds the account, 
"but one-half pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal 
of sack." There is many a true word spoken in jest ! 

Such madcaps as Sir John never keep accounts, but if they 
did they would get a surprise. George Washington once 



22 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

wrote a letter to a certain Mr. Thomas Green in which he 
said: "Were you to look back and had the means either 
from recollection or accounts to ascertain the cost of the 
liquor you have expended it would astonish you. In the 
manner this expense is generally incurred, that is, by getting 
a little now and a little then, the impropriety of it is not 
seen, inasmuch as it passes away without much thought. But 
view it in the aggregate and you will be convinced at once." 
And later in the same letter he goes on to say, "But the 
expense is not the worst consequence that attends it." 

Only a small portion of the price of pleasure is paid in 
money. The satisfaction of these bodily appetites is followed 
by the suffering from bodily ills. Falstaff's unwieldy mass of 
flesh may be a source of amusement to others but it is surely 
a source of discomfort to himself. It is evidently the result 
of his self-indulgent habits. Once he was so slim that he 
"could have crept into any alderman's thumb ring," and now 
his waist is two yards round, he is "blown up like a bladder," 
and he cannot see his own knee. Of course he appreciates 
the funny side of it, and can enjoy a joke at his own expense. 
When he gets the ducking in the Thames that he so richly 
deserves he says : "The rogues slighted me into the river 
with as little remorse as they would have drowned puppies, 
and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity 
in sinking. I had been drowned but that the shore was shelvy 
and shallow; a death that I abhor, for the water swells a 
man, and what a thing I should have been had I been swelled. 
• I should have been a mountain of mummy." 

But with all his joking about it his huge bulk makes him 
very uncomfortable and averse from action. Pathetically he 
complains : "I were better to be eaten to death with rust 
than to be scoured to nothing by perpetual motion." But 
worse than inertia, he suffers with the gout, one of the pen- 
alties that the good liver so often has to pay. It plays the 
rogue with his great toe, and the pain doubtless neutralizes 
the delight of many a bottle of that excellent sherris sack. 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 23 

Nor is this all. Those who live for appetite may have 
what they consider a good time, but one of the blessings they 
forfeit is the respect of their neighbors. Falstaff is no excep- 
tion, and he knows it. When he is impersonating the king 
and lecturing the young prince on his follies he says : "There 
is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is 
known to many in our land by the name of pitch ; this pitch, 
as ancient writers do report, doth defile, so doth the company 
thou keepest." 

Again, what a pitiful picture the Chief Justice draws of 
the degenerate old man, characterized by a yellow cheek, a 
white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing paunch, with voice 
broken, wind short, chin double, wit single, like a candle, the 
better part burned out. This is how Falstaff appears to 
others. The eminent critic, Gervinus, points out that before 
the end Shakespeare degrades him even in his wit so that he 
is by no means a match for simple honest people. 

Even the prince, after all the fun and frolic they had had 
together on his accession to the throne, rejects the old fel- 
low. We feel sorry for Falstaff when he says : 

"I know thee not, old man, fall to thy prayers ; 
How ill white hairs become a fool and jester. 
I have long dreamed of such a kind of man, 
So surfeit-swelled, so old and so profane ; 
But being awaked, I do despise my dream. 
Make less thy body hence and more thy grace; 
Leave gourmandizing; know the grave doth gape 
For thee thrice wider than for other men." 

Simple, literal truth, which may be verified in the reports 
of the various insurance societies today. The grave, how- 
ever, is a subject that Falstaff would fain forget ; he does not 
thank anyone for reminding him of his end. 

When it comes it is pitiful to see him going back to his 
innocent childhood and calling on the God he has so long 
neglected. Mistress Quickly, hostess of the Boar's Head, tells 
the story of his passing in her garrulous way: "A' parted 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the 
tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with 
flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was 
but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen and a' bab- 
bled of green fields. So a' cried out 'God, God, God' three or 
four times. Now I to comfort him, bid him a' should not 
think of God. I hoped there was no need to trouble himself 
with any such thoughts yet." But even then he was dying 
as she soon realized. 

Sitting once in the Boar's Head Inn and feeling old age 
coming on apace, he had said to Bardolph : "My skin hangs 
about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered like 
an old applejohn. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while 
I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart presently and then 
I shall have no strength to repent." 

It is not by any means a satisfactory task to analyze a 
comic character. It is not intended to be analyzed but only 
to be enjoyed. Falstaff is perhaps the most amusing figure 
in all comedy and we are indebted to him for a great deal 
of fun. But Shakespeare is not the man to allow wit and 
humor entirely to obscure the show of evil. He will not 
leave us with the impression that after all fair is foul and foul 
is fair. He makes Falstaff himself acknowledge that his life 
is all wrong and resolve occasionally to leave sack and live 
cleanly as a gentleman should do. As we have seen he 
makes him pay dearly for his pleasures. To sum up the price : 
impecuniosity annoys him ; his heavy form makes action dis- 
tasteful ; gout tortures him; he loses the respect of decent 
people, and he leaves the world having had, so far as we are 
able to judge, "no strength to repent." 

There are various sorts of pleasures and some are incom- 
patible with others. They won't mix, so it is necessary to 
choose between them. One group may be broadly classed as 
"the pleasures of sin"; these only last "for a season." There 
is another variety, described on unimpeachable authority as 
"pleasures for evermore." Every human soul has the privilege 
of choosing between the two kinds. Myriads of men for want 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 25 

of a little thought are carried away by the desire for sensual 
gratification and "sell eternity to get a toy." 

We may feel reasonably sure that Shakespeare himself was 
a sincere Christian. It would be hard to imagine anyone but 
a true believer writing as he does of "our dear Redeemer" 
and speaking of God as "our hope, our stay, our guide and 
lantern to our feet." How clearly he sets forth the gospel 
in the lines : — 

"All the souls that were, were forfeit once, 
And He that might the vantage best have took 
Found out the remedy." 

Not only does he refer to the Atonement as the one way 
of salvation in such words as these : 

"I charge you, as you hope to have redemption 
By Christ's dear blood, shed for our grievous sin," 

but one feels there is a personal appreciation of the sacrifice 
of the Son of God when he writes of 

"Those blessed feet 
Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed 
For our advantage on the bitter cross." 

We are not left, however, to gather from Shakespeare's 
characters what he himself thought and felt upon the theme 
of themes. We have his own solemn statement in his last 
will and testament. Only three of his signatures have been 
preserved and one of them is beneath these words : "I com- 
mend my soul into the hands of God my Creator, hoping and 
assuredly believing through the only merits of Jesus Christ 
my Saviour to be made partaker of life everlasting." 

But though such is his faith he does not preach to us, for 
that is not his calling. He shows us life as it is, good and ill 
inextricably mixed together, and he leaves us to think things 
out for ourselves. All the world's a stage and Falstaft has 
his place upon it like everybody else. He reveals himself; he 
does not need a cap and bells. Poor old fellow, we enjoy his 



26 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

merriment and are amused by his wit, but we do not know a 
single individual who would wish to be like him. He has his 
pleasure like many another man of the world, but is it worth 
the price? 



LADY MACBETH AND HER MOTIVES 

"That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold." 

The feast is spread. Macbeth, by the murder of Duncan, has 
realized his ambition and become king of Scotland. At a state 
banquet he and his queen entertain the chief lords of the realm. 
Lady Macbeth pronounces a cordial welcome, while her husband 
mingles with the guests and takes a seat at the table. "Be large 
in mirth," he says, "anon, we'll drink a measure the table round." 
"Now good digestion wait on appetite and health on both." Then, 
as in some quarters now, it was supposed that wine is a valuable 
addition to the social meal because it helps digestion. That idea 
has, however, been completely exploded and we are told on high 
authority that if we wish good digestion to wait on appetite and 
health on both we must leave strong drink alone. However, it 
is not for any such practical purpose that wine is served at any 
banquet, but only for the pleasure it imparts and the atmosphere 
of good fellowship that accompanies it. Macbeth, a few moments 
later, speaks again : "Give me some wine, fill full ; I drink to the 
general joy of the whole table." 

But though the word "joy" is on his lips there is no joy for 
him tonight. Instead there is horror in his heart as he encounters 
the accusing ghost of Banquo, whom he has just murdered. 
Though from first to last he never realizes it, this same sparkling 
wine, associated in his mind with the thought of joy, is one of 
the prime factors in the tragedy that even now has begun to 
overwhelm his life. 

Shakespeare took the material for this play from Holinshed's 
Chronicle. The name of the actual murderer, as there given, 
was Donwald, and the story runs thus: 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 



w 



"At length, having talked with them a long time, he got him 
into his privie chamber, onelie with two of his chamberlains, 
who having brought him to bed came forth againe, and then fell 
to banketting with Donwald and his wife, who had prepared 
diverse delicate dishes and sundrie sorts of drinks for their sup- 
per, whereat they sate up so long, till they had charged their 
stomachs with such full gorges, that their heads were no sooner 
got to the pillow but asleepe they were so fast that a man might 
have remooved the chamber over them sooner than to have 
awaked them out of their droonken sleepe." 

The poet brings out very clearly that the use of drink was an 
integral part of the plot to murder the king. 

Macbeth has almost resolved to abandon his purpose. He 
reflects that even in this world retribution may overtake him. 
He has not the faintest shadow of excuse for this murder, for 
Duncan has borne his faculties so meek and been so clear in his 
great office, and his virtues will testify like angels, trumpet- 
tongued against the crime. 

Besides being his kinsman and his king, Duncan is bound to 
Macbeth by the sacred ties of hospitality and is for the time 
being under his protection. Influenced by these weighty considera- 
tions, the thane, notwithstanding his ambition, says to his lady: 
"We will proceed no further in this business." 

But she holds him to the purpose, for she is resolved that 
cost what it may he shall sit upon the throne of Scotland. With 
calm determination she plans the murder as being the only pos- 
sible means to this end, and she lashes her husband with her 
tongue for his hesitation. He weakens. His next objection is 
based merely on the fear that they may fail in the attempt, so 
she lays her plan before him in detail. 

"When Duncan is asleep, 
Whereto the rather shall his hard day's journey 
Soundly invite him, his two chamberlains 
Will I with wine and wassail so convince 
That memory, the warder of the brain, 
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason 



28 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

A limbeck only; when in swinish sleep 
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death, 
What cannot you and I perform upon 
The unguarded Duncan? What not put upon 
His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt 
Of our great quell?" 

The old anatomists thought that the brain consisted of three 
ventricles or chambers; and that the mind had three principal 
faculties, understanding, imagination and memory. The imagina- 
tion lodged in the front cell, the understanding or reason in the 
middle, and the memory in the hindermost. Memory was sup- 
posed to act as a guard or warder to protect the other faculties. 
Lady Macbeth says that strong drink will convert memory into 
a mere fume or vapor. It will then rise into the next cell and 
confuse the reason. The latter will be like an alchemist's limbeck 
or alembic, which is the part of a still into which the fumes 
ascend. The description may seem to us far fetched, but 
alchemy was very popular in those days, and though the terms be 
unfamiliar we can get the main idea, that the mind, including 
memory and reason, is rendered utterly useless by alcohol. The 
word "quell" in the last line is essentially the same as "kill," and 
Lady Macbeth means that the attendants, saturated with liquor, 
shall bear the responsibility of the murder. 

When Macbeth considers this plan and is convinced that he 
can do the deed with impunity, he declares that his mind is made 
up to it, and he will "bend up each corporal agent to this terrible 
feat." She drugs the possets; she places the daggers; he strikes 
the blow ; the deed is done. 

Some are inclined to look on Lady Macbeth as a fiend incar- 
nate, her husband's evil genius, utterly devoid of any natural 
feelings. But she says herself that they must screw their courage 
to the sticking place, and this implies an effort made in resistance 
to an opposite feeling. She is afraid she may weaken and so 
she invokes evil spirits to unsex her, and stop up the passage to 
remorse, that no natural compunctions may shake her fell purpose. 
That there are stirrings of human feeling in her breast we see 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 29 

from this reference to the old man : "Had he not resembled my 
father as he slept, I had done it." Because she is not a fiend, 
but a woman, there is, she knows, some danger lest her ambitious 
purpose should fail of accomplishment, hindered by thoughts of 
pity or considerations of right and wrong. It is because she is 
afraid of her own better nature that she calls these spirits to 
her aid. 

Neither to these alone does she appeal ; she seeks assistance 
from spirits of another kind. She takes a draught of that same 
drink she gave the grooms, to strengthen herself for her part in 
the crime that is to make her husband king and herself queen 
of Scotland. "That which hath made them drunk hath made me 
bold," she says, "that which hath quenched them hath given me 
fire." 

This is a very suggestive statement, and leads one to inquire 
why the same drug should quench, as it were, one person and 
give fire to another. Apparently it acts in small doses as a stimu- 
lant and in large ones as a narcotic, but a little thought will con- 
vince us that the effect is essentially the same in both cases. 

The brain, as we now understand, consists of the cerebrum, 
which is the seat of conscious action, including all the higher 
functions ; the cerebellum, which is concerned with the co-ordina- 
tion of the muscles ; and the medulla or bulb, wherein are found 
nervous centers governing heart and lungs. The effect of poison- 
ing by alcohol is first seen in the cerebrum, where it is manifested 
by loss of self-control and confusion of thought. The cerebellum 
is next affected and the subject cannot regulate his movements. 
Lastly, when the medulla is narcotized the heart and lung centers 
stop functioning and death results. In the case of the grooms, 
when death and nature do contend about them whether they 
live or die, it is because the narcotic effect has been deep enough 
to involve the medulla. 

Lady Macbeth takes no such draught. A small quantity suf- 
fices to deaden the higher centers of her brain and paralyze the 
feelings of compunction that might have hindered her. She 
takes it for that very purpose. 



30 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

The reason why alcohol makes a person bold to do what other- 
wise he would never do is thus expressed by one of our American 
medical authorities : "The effect is to attack the protoplasm of 
the most highly specialized cells. The sense of shame, the sense 
of decency, the sense of right and wrong, the equipoise, that part 
of our complex organism which has differentiated civilized man 
from the savage and savages from animals, these disappear under 
its influence." 

An amateur climbing in the Alps took a drink of whisky 
before he attempted a very dangerous crevasse and boasted that 
after so doing, he jumped it like a bird. "Like a fool rather," 
was his friend's comment. The effect of the whisky was simply 
to make him regardless of consequences because the higher 
centers concerned with judgment were paralyzed. The same 
thing holds good in regard to crime. Lady Macbeth is bold 
because she has for the moment laid to sleep her reason and 
judgment and the better feelings that otherwise might give her 
pause. 

Macbeth wanted the throne, but was probably too full of the 
milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way. He was not 
without strong ambition but would hardly have murdered to 
attain his desire. He would have drawn back, as we have seen, 
but for his wife's influence and her contempt for him when he 
hesitated. And as he would not have done the deed without 
her so perhaps she would not have done it without the wine. 
Since she felt the need of it to make her bold it would seem that 
she was not quite bold enough without it. So this crime might 
never have been committed but for alcohol. 

Be that as it may, we may safely assume that though attempted 
it would have failed. Like every other royal personage Duncan 
had his bodyguard whose duty it was to defend him with their 
very lives. Instead of so doing, at the moment of danger they 
are in a deep sleep and mock their charge with snores. And why ? 
Because they have partaken of the lethal cup. Thus twice over 
we find alcohol an important factor in the plot. 

God only knows in how many tragedies the wide world over 
it has been a factor. The Scottish heath of a bygone age, the 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 31 

American home of the twentieth century, together with a vast 
variety of human habitations unnumbered and unknown, have 
been the scenes of plots essentially similar. There is some fault 
that holds the possibilities of tragedy, ambition in one case, weak- 
ness in another, jealousy in a third. These may lead to nothing 
worse than an ordinary degree of unhappiness. But alcohol is 
added and becomes a determining factor. Then ambition plus 
alcohol, or weakness plus alcohol, or jealousy plus alcohol, spells 
murder. 

The connection between strong drink and crime was fully 
recognized in Shakespeare's time, though of course it was not 
understood as it is today. An act was passed in 1607 for 
repressing drunkenness which contains these words: 

"The loathsome and odyous Synne of Drunkennes is of late 
growen into comon use within this Realme being the root and 
foundacion of many other enormious Synnes, as Bloodshed, Stab- 
binge, Murder, Swearinge, Fornicacion, Adulterye and such like, 
to the great dishonour of God and of our Nacion, the overthrowe 
of many good Artes and Manuell Trades the disablinge of dyvers 
Workmen and the genrell ympovrishing of many good Subjects." 

Since the nature of alcohol has not changed in the three hun- 
dred years since these words were written and since it has not yet 
been prohibited by national law in the old country or the new, 
its effects remain today just the same as ever. 

As, however, we understand these effects so much better 
than did our forefathers, and as scientific investigation has 
demonstrated to us the close connection between alcohol and 
crime and the reasons for the same, we are far more to blame 
for allowing it to exist in our midst than were those who lived 
in the seventeenth century. 

Physiologists, psychologists, alienists and criminologists speak 
with the authority of expert knowledge against the use of alcohol. 
Their testimony is supported by a vast amount of practical experi- 
ence. Colonel Maus, recently retired as surgeon-general of the 
Eastern Department of the United States Army, after forty-one 
years of service, says: "Practically all the crime committed in 



32 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

the army directly or indirectly can be traced to the effects of 
alcohol." 

Here is a letter from an English captain written from the 
front: "We sincerely hope the English and French govern- 
ments will unite to enforce a complete prohibition. On looking 
over my orderly room cases for the last few months, I note 
that with few exceptions all the offences are attributable 
to drink, and the exceptions are trifling affairs. The only 
cure, and the one sincerely hoped for by those of us who 
view with apprehension our steadily increasing use of alco- 
hol, is its total effective prohibition, both in England and 
France." 

Very different from these offences and not to be men- 
tioned in the same breath with them, are the unspeakable 
crimes of the Huns in Belgium. Testimony given in the 
Bryce report and gathered from the letters of Teuton sol- 
diers, shows that in many cases these atrocities which have 
shocked the civilized world were committed under the in- 
fluence of liquor. Even Germans would hardly have treated 
helpless little children as they have done had they not been 
more or less drugged. 

We have in Macbeth weird suggestions of supernatural 
powers affecting human destiny — witches, with their charm 
wound up, withered and wild in appearance, making their 
baneful influence felt from the outset, their cauldron a com- 
pote of all gruesome things suggestive of horror. The fillet 
of a fenny snake, eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat, 
tongue of dog, and the other ingredients of the enchanted pot 
may sound sufficiently repulsive, but for a "charm of power- 
ful trouble" there is nothing to compare with that apparently 
harmless wine cup whose contents will just stupefy the 
moral nature enough to enable the user, though a woman of 
refinement, to become a criminal. 

As, after the deed, Lady Macbeth goes to replace the dag- 
gers beside the grooms, a loud knocking is heard without. 
It continues some time as the porter is slow in responding. 
"Knock, knock, knock," he says, "who's there, in the name 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 33 

of Beelzebub?" and he pictures himself as the keeper of hell- 
gate, letting the sinners in. 

His soliloquy is not the mere chatter of a loquacious old 
servitor. It suggests that this is indeed the gate of hell in 
a very real sense. This beautiful home, where "heaven's 
breath smells wooingly" and where amid the music of the 
birds and the perfume of the flowers loyal hearts might live 
happily and entertain for a season a good and gracious friend, 
this place is transformed into a hell on earth. It becomes the 
scene of murder and its inmates have brought upon them- 
selves a punishment which will ever increase in the intensity 
of its horror, and compared with which any corporal suffer- 
ing seems unworthy to be mentioned. Remorse is hell. This 
is what Lady Macbeth has brought upon herself and her hus- 
band, and the means by which she has compassed that deed, 
fatal to Duncan's life, but far more awfully fatal to their 
own two souls is — drink. 

When the human spirit maintains its ascendancy over 
the lower nature and is itself illumined and indwelt by the 
Divine, how happy and harmonious life becomes ! But when, 
through alcohol's delusive influence, the higher nature is 
deadened and dethroned, then the storms of passion sweep 
unhindered, destroying both character and happiness, and 
life may be described in Macbeth's own words as "a tale 
told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." 

From such rueful wreck and ruin, good Lord, deliver us ! 



VI 

SIR TOBY AND HIS CRITICS 

"Dost thou think, because thou art zrirtuous, there shall 

be no more cakes and ale?" 

It is past midnight but Sir Toby and his friend Sir Andrew 
Aguecheek are having a rollicking time regardless of the 
other inmates of the house. It is not in Sir Toby's nature to 
consider anybody's comfort but his own. He takes advantage 



34 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

of his niece's kindness and hospitality and cajoles his friend 
out of his money and entirely disregards the claims of law 
and order. However, as he is jolly and witty and constantly 
bubbles over with mirth and music his selfishness is more or 
less concealed. 

Sir Andrew is a tall lank-haired and very weak-minded 
individual. He has unbounded admiration for Sir Toby and 
imitates him on all occasions. He thinks life consists of eat- 
ing and drinking, and when it dawns on him that he presents 
a somewhat foolish appearance he suggests that much beef 
has done harm to his wit. It seems probable that drinking 
has had more to do with his stupidity than eating, for the two 
knights are intoxicated every evening. Sir Toby excuses this 
by saying it is with drinking healths to his niece and adds, 
"I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat 
and drink in Illyria. He's a coward that will not drink to my 
niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish top." How 
many irregularities is this old custom of health-drinking re- 
sponsible for, and how many physical ills! It has been pithily 
said that "we drink each other's health and spoil our own." 

The Countess Olivia, Sir Toby's niece, is a young and 
beautiful woman, who on account of the deep sorrow of a 
double bereavement has retired from society and is resolved 
to live in seclusion for seven years. She tolerates Sir Toby 
because of their relationship though his manner of life is by 
no means to her taste. Quiet and austere by nature she loves 
simplicity and reality. Her household affairs are administered 
by a steward, one Malvolio, who is a strict puritan. 

The two revelers sit up well into the night and are joined 
by the clown who contributes a song. But a solo is not good 
enough for Sir Toby and he proposes that they all three sing. 
"Shall we make the welkin dance indeed?" says he. "Shall 
we rouse the night owl in a catch that will draw three souls 
out of one weaver? Shall we do that?" "Let's do it," echoes 
Sir Andrew, and the trio are soon bawling at the top of their 
voices. 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 35 

This brings Maria, the Countess' waiting-maid, to the 
scene, and she sharply reproves the noisy gentlemen, saying, 
"What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have 
not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out 
of doors, never trust me." 

It is indeed disgraceful to disturb the whole household at 
this time of night. An old book has come down to us from 
Shakespeare's century which says, "No man shall after the 
hour of nine at night keep any rule (i. e., behaviour) whereby 
a sudden outcry be made in the still of night, as beating his 
wife or servant, or singing or revelling in his house." Good 
manners at that time required that such things be done before 
the clock struck nine ! 

Maria's efforts are in vain. Sir Toby starts up another 
song and yet another after that. Then, just as she had pre- 
dicted, the steward walks in and indignantly remonstrates 
with the three men. 

"My masters," he cries, "are you mad? Or what are you? 
Have you no wit, manners nor honesty, but to gabble like 
tinkers at this time of night? Do you make an ale-house of 
my lady's house that you squeak out your cozier's catches 
without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no 
respect of place, persons nor time in you?" And when the 
irrepressible Sir Toby retorts that they did keep time in their 
catches, he goes on to say, "Sir Toby, I must be round with 
you. My lady bade me tell you that though she harbors you 
as her kinsman, she is nothing allied to your disorders. If 
you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are 
welcome to the house ; if not, and it would please you to take 
leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell." 

Sir Toby gets angry. "Sir," he cries, "ye lie. Art any 
more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art 
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?" 

The old fellow evidently believes in personal liberty. The 
puritan shall not interfere with him ; he will eat what he 
likes and drink what he likes, shout when he likes and sing 
when he likes, and it is nobody's business but his own. 



36 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

This notion of personal liberty is being constantly aired 
by those who indulge in the liquor habit and support the 
liquor traffic. It would be well if they would study the defi- 
nition of liberty given by the Supreme Court of the United 
States : "Even liberty, the greatest of all rights, is not unre- 
stricted license to act according to one's own will. It is only 
freedom from restraint under conditions essential to the equal 
enjoyment of the same rights by others." 

Because Sir Toby insists on his supposed right to drink 
and shout, other people are deprived of their undoubted right 
to a good night's rest. But no one really has any right, in 
pursuit of his own pleasure, to make himself a nuisance to 
his neighbors. 

The liquor traffic has always been a public nuisance. It 
was eminently so in the days when this play was written. If 
we delve into those Statutes of the Realm that date from the 
reigns of the Tudor sovereigns we may easily read between 
the lines how great an annoyance liquor drinking had become 
in English society. A law passed shortly before Shakespeare's 
time says, "Intollerable hurt and trobles to the Comon Wealthe 
of this realm do the daylie grow and increase throughe such 
abuses and disorders as are had and used in comen Alehouses 
and other houses called Tiplinge houses." 

Another law, enacted within about two years of the date 
of this play, contains these words : "The ancient true and 
principal use of Innes, Alehouses and Victuallinge Houses 
was for the Receipte Reliefe and Lodginge of wayfaring peo- 
ple travellinge from place to place and not meant for enter- 
tainment and harboringe of idle people to spende and consume 
theire money and theire tyme in lewde and drunken manner." 

It was quickly followed by another in which we read of 
"Alehouses whereof the Multitudes and Abuses have been and 
are found intollerable and still doe and are like to increase." 

We also notice that the liquor men of that period would 
not confine themselves within the limits of the law any more 
than they do today. The traffic was essentially corrupt. We 
find men "taking upon them the Arte and Mysterie of Malt- 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 37 

makinge and tenderinge more their owne private lucre and 
gayne and profitt than the holsome vytalinge of the King's 
majestie and his Grace subjects." We read that "by gready 
myndes" they "made myche malte unpure and unseasonable" 
so that it became "mustie and full of Wevells, wherby noe 
holsome drincke for man's bodye can by any means be therof 
made." As the spelling indicates, this is from an earlier 
statute; it dates from the reign of Henry the Eighth. 

Thus for not much less than four hundred years our Anglo- 
Saxon race has had proof that this is a thoroughly lawless 
trade. It has been set down in those tomes where words are 
never lightly written as "intolerable," and yet in our easy- 
going way we have tolerated it to the present time in the old 
country and in the new. 

Even now, though we are gradually trying to get rid of 
it, many men are desperately afraid that their town or city 
will go to ruin without it, and that under prohibition the grass 
will soon be. growing in the streets. Experience, however, is 
a good teacher, and we see some who formerly favored license 
changing their minds after a year or two under the prohibitory 
regime. The editor of a certain newspaper in Spokane, Wash- 
ington, may be taken as the type of a large and increasing 
class. He says : "Spokane has honestly tried prohibition and 
it has prohibited. Not perfectly, but better than speed laws 
prohibit fast driving or larceny laws prohibit theft. Hotel 
men who at that time were near panic over the coming of 
the new law are wearing smiles as they turn surplus guests 
away." After all, what else was to be expected? Does it 
not stand to reason that a decent law-abiding city is more 
attractive to the decent law-abiding majority of the people 
than one that is honeycombed with saloons, every one of 
which is a centre of disorder and rowdyism? 

Slowly but surely our citizens are learning that prohibition 
is a public boon. It is a boon even to the Toby tribe did 
they but know it. Toby gets into trouble before the end of 
the play and has a broken head. By the way, this would not 
have happened but for drink, which has always been known 



38 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

as a fruitful cause of accidents. He wants the surgeon and 
wants him at once. But unfortunately that gentleman is 
drunk, and the knight must go without attention or at least 
must wait for it. This is very exasperating, and Sir Toby 
does not hesitate to call him a rogue. "I hate a drunken 
rogue," he exclaims. It is all right for himself and his chums 
to carouse the live-long night and make the welkin ring, but 
when the doctor has a mind to amuse himself in the same 
way that is an entirely different matter. He ought to be 
always on hand, ready to patch up the broken heads of bibu- 
lous knights. Point of view makes a great difference. 

Malvolio affords us a great deal of fun in this play on 
account of his ridiculous conceit and self-love, but after all 
he does stand as a representative of law and order, and it is 
on this account that Sir Toby is at odds with him. He hates 
to be restrained. One sentence of his, quoted above, gives 
us the key to his position on the liquor question. "Dost thou 
think, because thou art virtuous," he says, sneering at the 
steward's puritanism, "there shall be no more cakes and ale?" 
He entirely forgets that the official would never have inter- 
fered with him at all if he had been behaving himself decently. 
It is as a disturber of the peace that he finds his liberty 
questioned. 

We have the same situation today on a public scale. The 
temperance people are accused of forcing their own narrow 
views on others and obliging their neighbors to live by their 
own teetotal rule. Cakes and ale and all the conviviality and 
jollity represented thereby must be banished because the drys 
are determined to inflict their severe code on the whole of 
society. Not at all. Either ignorantly or wilfully the wets 
entirely misconstrue the matter. If the liquor traffic had not 
made itself a public nuisance it might still continue unmo- 
lested. If the saloon had not been the centre of disorder, if 
it had not made our cities a disgrace to civilization, if it had 
not tampered with our courts of justice, if it had not bribed 
the police, if it had not corrupted politicians, if it had not 
fostered anarchy, it would still be allowed to remain. It is 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 39 

not going out of existence because a certain number of "dry" 
individuals want to make everybody else dry. It is going 
because the majority have the right to abate a nuisance and 
intend to use that right. To quote the Supreme Court once 
again : "There is no inherent right in a citizen to sell intoxi- 
cating liquor by retail; it is not a privilege of a citizen of a 
state or of a citizen of the United States. As it is a business 
attended with great danger to the community it may be 
entirely prohibited." 
God speed the day ! 



VII 
CASSIO AND THE ONE CUP 

"0 thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name 
to be known by, let us call thee devil!" 

Iago's heart is filled with hatred and malice. He had 
counted on being made Othello's lieutenant. He had seen 
service under him in Rhodes, Cyprus and elsewhere and felt 
that he had acquitted himself creditably. Moreover no less 
than three influential men interceded in his behalf. But the 
suit was denied; Othello had already chosen his officer. 

The lucky man is Michael Cassio, a Florentine. He has 
given considerable attention to the theory of war, but has not 
had by any means as much experience in the field as the 
other. Iago heartily despises him and says that all his know- 
ledge is mere prattle without practice. He harbors a bitter 
grudge in his heart against Cassio for having won the coveted 
position and a yet bitterer one against the general who pro- 
moted him. He only remains in the army that he may seek 
an opportunity of wreaking his vengeance on both. He sets 
his wits to work and counts on "all the tribe of hell" to help 
him, and gradually the plan develops in his mind. 

Othello is a happy man; he has just married a beautiful 
wife. If Iago can at one and the same time get Cassio's place 
and shatter Othello's bliss, this double knavery will deliciously 
gratify his passion for revenge. 



40 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

But how is he to do it? There's the rub. Suppose he 
contrives to get Cassio into trouble so that he is disgraced 
and dismissed; then Desdemona, gentle and kind-hearted as 
she is, will easily be persuaded to plead for him. By a hint 
here and a hint there he can make it appear that she cares 
unduly for the lieutenant, for "trifles light as air are to the 
jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ." But 
the difficulty is to get him into disfavor in the first place. 
Othello has the highest opinion of him as a soldier and he 
loves him as a friend. Indeed they are so intimate that Cassio 
acted as mediator when the Moor was courting the beautiful 
Venetian. It does not seem an easy thing to compass the 
downfall of this young man. 

However he will manage it somehow; the plot is already 
assuming a more or less definite shape. "'Tis here but yet con- 
fused ; knavery's plain face is never seen till used." He waits 
his opportunity, which is not long in coming. 

Othello proclaims a festival to celebrate the destruction 
of the Turkish fleet and his own recent marriage. There is to 
be full liberty of feasting, with bonfires, sports, dancing and 
general revelry. Iago will persuade the lieutenant to drink. 
"If I can fasten but one cup on him," he schemes, "with that 
which he hath drunk tonight already, he'll be as full of quarrel 
and offense as my young mistress' dog." The rest will be 
easy; he can arrange for other young gallants to be present 
who will from the same cause be equally cantankerous. A 
brawl will inevitably follow and will result in Cassio's dis- 
grace. 

Meanwhile Othello's friend pursues his way without the 
smallest idea that he has an enemy. He looks on Iago as a 
very good fellow, thoroughly honest and kindly. He knows 
the general, too, has a high opinion of his ensign, and it never 
occurs to him to doubt the latter's good faith. 

The fateful evening draws in. Says Iago, "Come, lieu- 
tenant, I have a stoup of wine and here without are a brace 
of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the 
health of black Othello." But even though it is an invitation 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 41 

to drink to his friend and leader Cassio declines saying, "Not 
tonight, good Iago ; I have very poor and unhappy brains for 
drinking; I could well wish courtesy would invent some other 
custom of entertainment." 

kl O, but one cup," urges the tempter, and still Cassio refuses. 
He has had one cup tonight and though that was considerably 
diluted he dares not take another. 

Iago presses the claims of hospitality. These fellows just 
outside desire it; let Cassio call them in, for this is a festive 
occasion. So at last the young man yields, but against his 
will and protesting as he does so. All turns out as the villain 
plans. The quarrel is soon started and while it is in progress 
Iago has the big bell rung, the town is roused by a rumor of 
mutiny and everything is in an uproar. Othello arrives on 
the scene righteously indignant, and when he has asked a 
few questions and noted Cassio's condition he gives his ver- 
dict : "Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of mine." 

Swiftly events move on. Cassio having lost his position 
Desdemona pleads his cause and out of her own goodness 
the inhuman wretch Iago makes the net that does enmesh 
them all. Thus the whole plot of this tragedy, one of the 
most tremendous in all literature, hangs on one cup of wine. 

But it is Cassio alone that we are concerned with at pres- 
ent. We want to get his viewpoint, to see what alcohol 
means to him, how it affects his life and what he has to say 
concerning it. 

Poor fellow, he had everything in his favor to begin with. 
Youth, good looks, social position, all were his. In society 
he was known as a ready conversationalist and was deservedly 
popular. He filled his place in the army with great ability. 
In private he must have been a lovable character, for even 
his bitter enemy says of him : "He hath a daily beauty in 
his life that makes me ugly." And now he loses position, 
friendship, reputation, everything, for one cup of wine. Oh, 
the pity of it! 

Coming down to our own time, and disregarding for the 
present the greater forfeitures that are involved, let us con- 



42 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE, 

sider just this one thing, the loss of employment through the 
use of liquor. How many thousands of young Americans are 
today in Cassio's case! In spite of natural ability, in spite 
of "pull," in spite of friendship, they find themselves minus a 
position on account of drink, and they wish too late that they 
had confined themselves to "honest water which never left 
man in the mire." 

Big business is discriminating more and more severely 
against the men who use alcohol even moderately. Inquiry 
was recently made among the great iron and steel works in 
the middle west and in Pennsylvania and West Virginia. Out 
of a hundred and thirteen firms which replied to the questions 
asked, no less than a hundred and seven stated that they abso- 
lutely prohibit the use of alcohol in their works. Almost all 
of them added that they were doing "everything possible to 
prevent drinking by employees out of working hours." The 
reasons for this attitude on the part of the corporations are 
not far to seek. Men who drink "distempering draughts" 
even in small quantities are not capable of doing as much 
work as abstainers. It has been estimated that on an average 
fourteen men who are total abstainers can do as much as 
fifteen who use one glass of beer a day. Employers see no 
reason why they should pay for that extra man. 

Again, work is much more likely to be damaged when 
liquor is used. It is said that in certain large steel mills when 
saloons were open it was not an uncommon thing after payday 
for twenty to forty tons of steel to be spoiled in the rolling. 

In the third place, accidents are immensely increased when 
drink is accessible to the workers. Liability laws impose a 
great burden on employers. The damages assessed in court 
for loss of life or limb are so heavy as to make it necessary 
to take safety measures of the most thorough kind. Indus- 
trial prohibition is simply a safety measure in the interest 
alike of employer and employee. 

It is the risk of accidents among other considerations that 
has caused the railroads to take so strong a stand in this 
matter. Ninety-six per cent of the great roads require total 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 43 

abstinence of their men. Along virtually all lines we see the 
same thing. Dr. Edwin F. Bowers, a well-known writer, 
recently sent out five hundred letters to business men, rail- 
roads, corporations and experts asking for their opinion as to 
the attitude of industry toward alcohol. He says that prac- 
tically the only letter that did not condemn liquor came from 
a manufacturer of beer pumps. 

In short, the verdict of business would seem to be pretty 
well summed up in the words of Andrew Carnegie: "There 
is no use wasting time on any young man who drinks liquor, 
no matter how exceptional his talents." Such a one, how- 
ever great his ability and however excellent in other respects 
his character, is more than likely to hear from his employer 
the equivalent of what the young Florentine hears from 
Othello, "Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of 
mine. ,, 

That is bad enough, but let us not forget that loss of the 
position may after all be one of the least of the misfortunes 
brought on by that "one cup." In countless cases the ulti- 
mate result is ruin and tragedy. 

Iago would do very well to sit for a portrait of the devil. 
True, he has human motives and these keep for him a place 
among human beings. But rarely is a man to be found who 
so closely resembles a fiend. One can well imagine the great 
enemy of souls laying just such a trap as Iago lays. Satan 
is none the less real for being invisible ; he wields tremendous 
power as "the world-ruler of this darkness." It is certain that 
he goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Here is a 
young American, trained in a godly home, intelligent, edu- 
cated, refined, interested in the highest things, almost per- 
suaded to be a Christian. The enemy seems likely to lose 
his prey. Is it not natural, nay, all but inevitable, to suppose, 
that the thought of the arch-fiend or his representatives is 
often identical with Iago's — "If I can fasten but one cup upon 
him"? He does not approach him in any horrid shape; he 
speaks through his closest friend, his college chum, maybe, 



44 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

and says in the most innocent way imaginable, "But one cup, 
for sociability's sake." 

If the youth could only see the invisible beings who seek 
his ruin, if he could only realize what spirit forces are arrayed 
against him, would he under any circumstances play into the 
devil's hands by taking just one cup? 



VIII 
CASSIO THE SOLDIER 

"O that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal 

away their brains." 

Having pronounced sentence upon his hitherto trusted 
officer, Othello abruptly leaves the room. Cassio sinks down 
in despair; his loyal affection for his chief, his fine sense of 
honor, and his native dignity all contribute to make the blow 
a crushing one. 

As he pours out his shame and sorrow in bitter self-accus- 
ing words the hypocritical Iago asks him how it all happened. 
As a matter of fact he had carefully planned the whole thing 
and had told Roderigo to "find some occasion to anger Cassio," 
assuring him that the latter's fall would further the attain- 
ment of Roderigo's own ambitions. 

"What was he that you followed with your sword? What 
had he done to you?" asks Iago innocently. "I know not," 
says poor Cassio. "I remember a mass of things, but nothing 
distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that 
men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their 
brains ; that we should with joy, pleasance, revel and applause 
transform ourselves into beasts!" 

Here is one of the places in which Shakespeare gives us 
a physiological statement which is strictly in harmony with 
the findings of modern science. The whole intricate structure 
that we call the nervous system consists of neurons. A neuron 
is a nerve cell with the parts that appertain to it. Nerve cells 
are of various forms, the most common being star-shaped. 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 45 

From the points of the star, as it were, delicate threads run 
out. The cell has several short threads or processes and one 
long one. The short ones are called dendrites from a Greek 
word meaning "tree" because they resemble branches and 
have still smaller excrescences which look like twigs. These 
dendrites carry messages to the cell. The one long process, 
known as the axon, conveys impulses in the opposite direc- 
tion, away from the cell. 

Thousands of axons bound together in bundles make a 
nerve. Commonly these fibres have a fatty sheath which 
seems to act as an insulating jacket to prevent the dissipa- 
tion of the nervous impulses. The fatty material is white, 
so where the axons abound, that is, on the inside of the brain 
and the outside of the cord, we have what is called white 
matter. 

The nerve cells themselves are grey and so are the little 
dendrites, for they have no jackets, and therefore they are 
described in bulk as grey matter. The more delicate and 
finely organized is any cell or tissue, the more readily is it 
damaged by alcohol. The cells in the brain and the nervous 
system generally are the most highly specialized in the whole 
body, the most marvellous in operation and the most suscepti- 
ble to injury by this protoplasmic poison. 

When large quantities are taken, the brain cells, many of 
them, become thoroughly disorganized. First the dendrites 
shrivel up, and as it is by their means that the neurons are 
kept in communication with each other this is exceedingly 
disastrous. Later the body of the cell is injured and if the 
habit is persisted in it may entirely disappear. Physiologists 
believe that when this happens the cell is never replaced. 

When only small quantities are used the results are not so 
apparent, but careful experiment shows that the harm is 
always there. Professor Kraepelin of Munich, a pioneer in 
this line of investigation, has proved that so little as two 
tablespoonfuls will reduce mental efficiency. 



46 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

It acts in two ways, diminishing speed on the one hand 
and accuracy on the other. There are certain very simple 
processes, such as responding to a signal, which may be 
hastened for a short time after the use of alcohol, but they 
are hardly worth considering, and even in these cases mis- 
takes are more frequent and the quickening is soon followed 
by reaction. Whenever involved processes are concerned the 
working of the brain is invariably slowed down by alcohol. 
This is shown by such tests as adding columns of figures and 
memorizing poetry and numbers. 

There is a peculiar kind of stuffing material in the nervous 
system. It is called neuroglia and it keeps the delicate cells 
snugly packed and protects them from injury. Strange to 
say, while alcohol destroys the brain cells it has quite an 
opposite effect on this supporting tissue ; it is merely irritated 
and in consequence increases and fills up the space that is 
left when the brain cells are killed. Sir Victor Horsley puts 
the result as follows : "In the first place there is degenera- 
tion and ultimate destruction of the nerve cells and their 
processes. In the second place there is an increase in the 
supporting tissue which replaces the nerve cells and which is 
entirely useless from the point of view of nerve action." So 
Shakespeare w T as scientifically exact when he described strong 
drink as an enemy that steals away the brains. 

Nor was he less accurate in those other words that he put 
into Cassio's lips, "To be now a sensible man, by and by a 
fool and presently a beast." The Creator has endowed man 
with intellect and reasoning power while the brute has only 
instinct. Man's greatest glory is his moral nature, his ability 
to choose the good and refuse the evil. The injurious effect 
of alcohol is first seen on the highest centres of the brain ; the 
activities that are last acquired by the individual or the race 
are the first to be lost under the influence of this poison. If 
the moral nature is dulled and the intellect deadened, man's 
peculiar and distinguishing features are temporarily obliter- 
ated, and he is then to all intents and purposes on a level with 
the beast. 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 47 

Cassio feels this very keenly; he speaks of it no less than 
three times. Two of these references have already been 
quoted. The third is on this wise : "I have lost the immortal 
part of myself and what remains is bestial." The bitterest 
thought of all is that he has forfeited his reputation, for 
doubtless he feels, as Iago says on another occasion, that 
"Good name in man and woman is the immediate jewel of 
their souls," and few things can be compared to it in value. 
It is this that makes him say he is hurt past all surgery. 
Othello had given him so particular a charge when he left 
the hall and had moreover sounded a word of warning: 

"Good Michael, look you to the watch tonight; 
Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop 
Not to outsport discretion." 

Yes, he had called him Michael and left him in that respon- 
sible position because he trusted him. And he could not 
even control himself, much less the garrison and the town. 
His honor as a soldier has been dragged in the dust. He 
feels such contempt for himself that he cannot at first think 
of asking for forgiveness. He would "rather sue to be despised 
than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so 
drunken, and so indiscreet an officer." 

In truth strong drink is the soldier's worst enemy. We 
are beginning to realize it in these days, and Iago's song will 
not do for the army of the twentieth century: 

"And let me the canakin clink, clink, 
And let me the canakin clink; 

A soldier's a man; 

A life's but a span; 
Why then let a soldier drink." 

Neither will it do for the navy. Not only is physical effi- 
ciency required of all, but mathematical precision is essential 
in officers who have charge of the guns. Rapid and exact 
calculations must be made, and safety and success depend on 



48 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

speed and accuracy of the mental processes. Since both these 
are reduced by alcohol it is a dangerous thing for a naval 
officer to use even the smallest amount. The ruling of Sec- 
retary Daniels, so much criticized at the time as paternal 
legislation and an interference with personal liberty, is simply 
a safety measure of the most essential kind. Should an officer 
drink "but one cup" of wine, take a few seconds longer to 
make a calculation and in consequence miss the submarine, 
who can estimate the result? A ship lost to the American 
navy, hundreds of heroes sacrificed, hundreds of homes deso- 
lated, would likely enough be the sequel to that little self- 
indulgence. 

Whoever else may do it, the soldier cannot afford to drink. 
He has too much against him. Modern warfare staggers the 
imagination. The scenes in Dante's Inferno are the merest 
child's play compared with what our boys have to face in 
these awful days. No wonder that many a brave fellow is 
transferred from the trenches to the insane asylum. The 
marvel is that so many live through it all and retain their 
reason. 

Surely it is unnecessary to suggest that every man of 
them needs all the brain power and nerve force with which 
he has been endowed by nature. To reduce it in the smallest 
degree is sheer madness. The soldier who takes a glass of 
wine or beer is literally putting an enemy in his mouth to 
steal away his brains. Are the foes he has to face not formid- 
able enough, are the horrors around him not horrible enough, 
is the death that whizzes by him not deadly enough, that he 
must of his own free choice fraternize with this other foe that 
threatens not only thisi life but also that which is to come? 
America does well to protect in some measure Ijer soldier 
sons. May God give them sense enough, when far from home 
on a foreign shore, also to protect themselves. 

There is for them moreover a higher consideration than 
personal well-being. The men in the service represent their 
country in a special manner and degree ; they are the cus- 
todians of her honor. Any stain on their reputation is a 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 49 1/ 

stain upon their flag. The soldier's is a high calling in these 
days, though a terrible one. 

"The peace of heaven is theirs who lift their swords 
In such a just and charitable war" 

as the present one, which aims to "make the world safe for 
democracy." The more reason why every man who goes 
forth under the Stars and Stripes, the Union Jack, or any 
other flag of the Allies, should not only be "without fear" but 
also "without reproach." 



IX 
OLD ADAM'S RETROSPECT 

"In my youth I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors 
in my blood." 

Greatly to the chagrin of his wicked brother Oliver, Or- 
lando has won the wrestling match. The elder hates the 
younger out of sheer jealousy, because he is "of all sorts 
enchantingly beloved." It is not surprising that the boy 
should be popular, for while full of ambition he is yet of 
gentle mien, though defrauded of an education he has suc- 
ceeded in gathering considerable knowledge, his manners are 
perfect and he is utterly devoid of fear. By his victory over 
the champion wrestler and probably by his modest behavior 
as much as by his remarkable skill he has overthrown more 
than his enemies. Rosalind takes the chain from her neck 
and gives it to him for a token, and he is so overcome by the 
sight of her and by this unexpected sign of her favor that he 
cannot find a word to say. 

He returns to the house after this double conquest with 
the one thought in his heart — "heavenly Rosalind." At the 
very threshold, however, a rude shock awaits him. His faith- 
ful old servant Adam is on the watch for him and begs him 
not to come inside the door. Adam is devoted to his young 
master for he is the very image of his father, the old Sir 



v/ 



50 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

Rowland. That father was a nobleman in deed and in truth ; 
the good duke (now an exile through his brother's usurpation) 
loved him as his own soul, and all the world agreed in admir- 
ing Sir Rowland's sterling worth. 

As to the three sons he has left behind, Orlando is like 
him in character as well as appearance ; Jaques, too, is a prom- 
ising boy doing well in school, but Oliver is heartless and 
cruel and has just been plotting the death of his too popular 
brother. He told the wrestler he would as soon have him 
break his neck as his finger, and thought the deed was as 
good as done, but that scheme has failed. Now Adam has 
overheard another plot — to set fire this very night to the 
place where the boy sleeps and so once for all be rid of him. 

The old man begs him to flee for his life and craves per- 
mission to accompany him and remain his servant still, saying: 

"I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities." 

He is nearly fourscore years of age and has worked on 
the land of the de Boys family since a lad of seventeen. As 
he says to the cruel Oliver, who calls him an old dog, "Most 
true I have lost my teeth in your service." However, but 
for this and his white hairs he is very well preserved for his 
age. He is eager to attend his young master and he disposes 
beforehand of the objections that are sure to arise in his mind 
by saying: 

"Though I look old yet I am strong and lusty ; 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly." 

Thus he expressly attributes his hale and hearty old age 
to good habits formed in youth, and more particularly to the 
fact of his having been a total abstainer from intoxicating 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 51 

drinks, Shakespeare, be it noted, does not make him say- 
that he has always been strictly moderate in the use of liquor 
or that he has only taken it on rare occasions. He says it 
is because he "never" took it that he is what he is today. 

One might multiply instances from real life of men like 
this stalwart octogenarian and might mention some who, 
thanks to plain living, moderate work and out-door air have 
passed the limit of a hundred years. 

Old Parr who lived during eleven reigns is a case in point. 
He died in 1635 ; he was married when one hundred and 
twenty, continued working until after his one hundred and 
thirtieth birthday and is said to have been a man of very 
abstemious habits. 

The records of longevity tell of an old woman in Ireland 
who lived to be a hundred and sixteen and whose diet con- 
sisted chiefly of potatoes and milk and oatmeal porridge. The 
winter before she died she was seen perched on a ladder 
mending the roof of her thatched cottage. History tells of 
one Bowman in the north of England who worked very hard 
from early youth and lived to the age of one hundred and 
eighteen. Bread and potatoes formed his staple foods to- 
gether with hasty pudding and sometimes broth. His bev- 
erages were water and milk. 

But these cases prove nothing and are only interesting as 
curiosities. If we wish to know whether the use of alcohol 
has any effect on the length of life we must consult the tables 
of insurance societies. In early days this could not be done, 
partly because abstainers were few and far between, and 
partly because they were not considered good risks and there- 
fore insurance companies did not care to take them. 

In 1840 a certain man sought to purchase an insurance 
policy and on acknowledging that he was a total abstainer 
was told that he must pay an extra premium. He did not 
care to be taxed for his principles in that way and he there- 
fore started an insurance company on his own account. At 
first it took only abstainers but later moderate users of alcohol 



52 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

were accepted and the society became known as the United 
Kingdom Temperance and General Provident Institution. 

The users and non-users of intoxicating beverages were 
kept in two separate classes. The records of the institution 
during the period from 1866 to 1910 show that the moderate 
drinkers had a mortality 37 per cent in excess of that of the 
abstainers. This allowed the society to give bonuses to mem- 
bers of the latter class. Other companies gradually began to 
realize that the abstainer was after all a better risk than his 
moderate drinking neighbor and they charged him lower rates 
instead of taxing him as aforetime. 

Several old-established British concerns followed the 
example of the Temperance and General Provident Institution 
and kept separate records of abstainers and non-abstainers. 
All reached the same conclusion, namely, that total abstinence 
lengthens life. 

American experience along this line is of much more recent 
date but is equally conclusive. Forty-three of the leading 
insurance companies of the United States and Canada recently 
undertook a thorough investigation into the mortality of cer- 
tain classes known as "border line risks." This term includes 
people with a history of disease in the family, overweights, 
me* in dangerous trades, and users of alcohol. The latter 
were classified according to the average amount taken. The 
committee consisted of men chosen by the different companies 
for their special knowledge and business ability. The chair- 
man was Mr. Arthur Hunter. The investigation covered two 
million policies, and the period studied was from 1885 to 1908. 

When an inquiry concerns itself with a comparatively 
small number of people in some one section of the country 
there may be local conditions which will influence results and 
therefore these may sometimes be misleading. But where the 
material is gathered over so large an area and the best experts 
are engaged in interpreting it, we may safely rely on their 
conclusions. Mr. Arthur Hunter says : "It is certainly proved 
that total abstainers are longer lived than non-abstainers." 



£ 






SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 53 

Taking the normal death rate as one hundred, the men 
who drink two glasses of beer or one of whisky a day have a 
death rate of a hundred and eighteen ; those who take from 
four to six glasses of beer daily or two of whisky have a death 
rate of one hundred and eighty-six. It should be remembered 
that this comparison is between these drinkers and the general 
class of insured individuals, which includes both abstainers 
and non-abstainers. If it had been between the drinkers and 
the total abstainers the results would doubtless have been 
more striking still. As Dr. Eugene Lyman Fisk says: "Old 
Mortality and John Barleycorn are exceedingly good cronies. 
Wherever you find alcohol you find the following formula at 
work: more alcohol equals higher death rate." 

All the businesses connected with liquor are considered 
hazardous and to be a liberal free user like those referred to 
above is to take a greater risk than men in the most dangerous 
occupations. 

The work of a lineman is very perilous, necessitating as 
it does the handling of live wires. One wonders at anybody 
deliberately choosing to earn his living in that way. The 
ratio of actual to expected deaths among these men is a hun- 
dred and forty-two per cent, but while this is bad enough, it 
does not, as we have just seen, nearly equal the mortality of 
those who drink their two whiskies a day. 

Firemen have not nearly so high a death rate as hotel- 
keepers. The work of grinders, engravers and cutlers is 
dangerous because small particles of metal injure the lungs 
and render the men liable to tuberculosis. But though their 
death rate is even higher than that of the linemen it is below 
that of the men who are engaged in breweries. 

Looked at from every standpoint it is clear that alcohol 
shortens life. But perhaps after all percentages such as the 
above do not make the matter quite as clear as another method 
of presentation might do. If a man's daily glass of liquor 
shortens his term of existence, by how much, on the average, 
does it do so? We have seen that the moderate drinker runs 
a greater risk of dying. Let us now look at the question from 



54 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

a slightly different angle and ask what does a glass of spirits 
cost measured in minutes instead of money. 

The government of Denmark has recently worked on this 
problem, basing its calculations on the experience of all Danish 
physicians for one year. The result shows that on an average 
each pint of brandy used by a steady drinker reduces his 
prospect of life by eleven hours and as there are about twenty- 
six drinks to the pint this is equivalent to saying that the average 
drink costs twenty-five minutes. 

We sometimes say that time is money, but as a matter of 
fact time is much more than money, and when the sands are 
numbered that make up his life the drinker would gladly give 
a good many dollars for a few more days. Yet how carelessly 
he pays out his twenty-five minutes for his drink; indeed, he 
probably does not realize that this is included in the bill. 
Total abstinence is such a life saver that Mr. Hunter ventures 
to assert, "If the government of Russia carry out their present 
intention to abolish permanently all forms of alcoholic bev- 
erages, the saving in human life will be enormous. It is not 
too much to say that the loss of five hundred thousand men 
as the result of the present warfare could be made good in 
less than ten years through complete abstinence from alcoholic 
beverages by all the inhabitants of Russia." 

So old Adam stands as a true type of the life abstainer who 
attains to a good age because he has had sense enough to 
refrain from evil habits. There is much more, however, to 
admire in the old man's character than this somewhat negative 
virtue. He offers his five hundred crowns, the savings of a 
lifetime, to his young master in distress. Orlando says in 
deep appreciation: 

"O good old man, how well in thee appears 
The constant service of the antique world, 
Where service sweat for duty, not for meed." 

They go forth together, and when at last, after trying 
vicissitudes, Orlando finds friends in the forest of Arden and 
tells them his story, he says of Adam : 






SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 55 

"There is an old, poor man 
Who after me hath many a weary step 
Limped in pure love." 

Two words thus characterize the simple life of this old 
laborer — love and duty. To these might be added "faith," for 
when he sacrifices his little all it is because he can trust in 
God who feeds the ravens and providently caters for the 
sparrow, and who, he is sure, will be the comfort of his age. 

Adam is a bright example of heroism in humble life, and 
a reminder that it is souls and not circumstances that count 
and that the supreme wealth is character. 



X 

OLD ADAM'S REWARD 

"Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly." 

Every season of the year has its own peculiar beauty and 
its characteristic pleasures. It would be idle to compare spring 
with fall or summer with winter, for they are so entirely 
different. No one would attempt to prove that the tender 
green of the opening leaves is more beautiful than the glory 
of the maples after the first October frost. No one would 
suggest that a wood in all the splendor of its summer array 
is any more entrancing than when it is a fairy land of dazzling 
crystal, glittering with a glory no man-made palace ever saw, 
while every twig is coated with ice and all the colors of the 
rainbow are reflected from a million radiant prisms. 

So it is with life. Childhood and youth hold very different 
experiences from those of manhood and old age, but it is 
blessed and beautiful all the way through when lived in true 
simplicity, and when, as with old Adam, faith and love and 
duty are its watchwords. Such as he can truthfully say, 
"Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly." 

The dear old man is one of several examples in "As You 
Like It," of the satisfaction of the simple life. Indeed this 






56 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

thought is one of the golden threads that run throughout the 
play. Corin, the shepherd, brings it out when he says: "Sir, 
I am a true laborer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no 
man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, 
content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see 
my ewes graze and my lambs suck." 

The good duke contrasts the peace of the forest with the 
painted pomp of the court and expresses his present happiness 
in those oft-quoted words: 

"And this our life exempt from public haunt 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones and good in everything." 

We meet with the same thought in Henry VI where the 
king says : 

"The shepherd's homely curds, 
His cold, thin drink out of a leather bottle, 
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 
Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 
His viands sparkling in a golden cup." 

But to return to Adam. It is interesting to note the way 
in which he expresses himself when referring to his youthful 
days and his habits of self-restraint. He says, as we have 
already seen, "I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors 
in my blood." His Bible doubtless has taught him that "the 
blood is the life" and that therefore health depends on its 
being kept in good condition. 

Shakespeare refers several times to the life-sustaining 
qualities of the blood, as when he makes a prince tell his lady 
he loves her even as his life or blood that fosters it. But little 
was known of the blood in the sixteenth century. It was clear 
that if people lost too much of it they died, but its composition 
was a mystery and the fact of its circulation as already men- 
tioned was not announced to the world until after Shakes- 
peare's death. 






SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 57 

Even Harvey, though he found that the blood is pumped 
by the heart into the arteries and returns thence by way of 
the veins, could not completely explain this phenomenon. He 
knew not how it passed from the smallest arteriole across to 
the smallest venule. There was a gap over which it was 
beyond his power to follow its movement. 

Just after Harvey had published the news of his discovery 
there was born into a Dutch home a baby who in due time 
grew to manhood and earned his living by making lenses. 
Being of a scientific spirit Leeuvenhoeck loved to search into 
the secrets of nature with the instruments he had made and 
he discovered in this way the red corpuscles in the blood. He 
also found animalculae in water and so made a start in bac- 
teriology. Then, towards the close of the century, he was 
able by his improved instruments to see what Harvey would 
have given so much to see, the course of the blood through the 
minute capillaries which unite the arteries and the veins. 

These tiny blood vessels take their name from the Latin 
word for a hair, because of their exceeding fineness. They 
consist of one delicate layer of cells, and through this mem- 
brane the food must pass out of the blood to the hungry 
tissues, and much of the waste must find its way back from 
the tissues to the blood stream. Thus, the chief function of 
blood, as it is now understood, is to be a carrier. It carries 
food to every part, and waste in the opposite direction ; it also 
conveys what is even a greater necessity than food, the oxygen, 
without which life cannot be sustained at all. 

Alcohol has a chemical affinity for oxygen and thus robs 
the tissues of part of their supply. It also has an affinity 
for water and by withdrawing a little of it from the mem- 
branes it tends to thicken them. When the delicate capillary 
walls are even in the smallest degree thickened or hardened 
it is more difficult for food to reach the tissues and for waste 
products to be removed. So by interfering with these chemical 
processes alcohol slowly but surely reduces vitality even when 
no actual disease is present and no appreciable harm is done. 



58 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

This does not represent, however, the full extent of the 
damage. Alcohol not only robs the blood of some of its oxy- 
gen but it makes it incapable of taking up as much as it nor- 
mally should. It is the red corpuscles that carry this life 
sustaining element. They are circular disks, of a very minute 
size, and because of their shape and their vast number they 
present an immense absorbing surface to the air in the lungs. 
Each red corpuscle is a little package of a substance named 
hemoglobin, which has the peculiar property of combining 
readily with oxygen where that gas is plentiful and giving it 
off again where it is less abundant. In the lungs there is, of 
course, plenty of oxygen and the hemoglobin of the corpuscles 
picks it up. The little disks carry it to all parts of the body 
and deposit it, taking in exchange the carbon dioxide that 
needs to be eliminated. The presence of alcohol in the blood 
is injurious to the red corpuscles. It causes them to become 
shriveled for the reason mentioned above, the abstraction of 
water from their substance. Thus double harm is done, on 
the one hand the corpuscles are reduced in size and efficiency 
and on the other hand the oxygen they carry is diminished 
in quantity. 

Even more interesting than the red corpuscles are the white 
ones, or leucocytes, some of which destroy germs and are 
known as phagocytes or "eating cells." They are larger than 
the red corpuscles and vary greatly in shape. They possess 
the power of independent movement and work their way 
through the walls of the blood vessels to the place where their 
presence is required. Alcohol has a paralyzing effect upon 
them and may cause their movements entirely to cease. When 
but small quantities are taken these phagocytes may still per- 
form their function but the rapidity with which they work 
is so much reduced that the germs multiply more quickly than 
they can be destroyed. 

There are other ways in which alcohol is injurious to the 
blood. For instance, it reduces the amount of the complement, 
a chemical substance found in its liquid part, or plasma, which 
renders it more easy for the phagocytes to devour germs. 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 59 

Shakespeare knew the bare fact that liquor drinking is 
harmful to the blood. Today we understand just how and 
why it is so, why it increases the liability to contract disease 
and decreases the chances of recovery from it, and why the 
average drink of whisky or brandy may be said to cost about 
twenty-five minutes of life. 

The rewards for right living are thus seen to be to a great 
extent payable immediately. They are not all by any means 
postponed until arrival in the undiscovered country beyond 
the grave. Far from having to wait until we have shuffled off 
this mortal coil, it is in the mortal coil itself that we receive in 
large measure our due reward or punishment. "We still have 
judgment here," and health and longevity are among the 
prizes most commonly bestowed on those who obey God's 
laws as written in the books of nature and revelation. 

Nor do these stand alone. It is evident that circumstantial 
comfort results from the habits of self-restraint and that these 
things are as closely related as cause and effect. While a Fal- 
staff, in spite of his title and his friendship with royalty, has 
not the wherewithal to pay his hotel bill, a humble old day 
laborer of abstemious habits has money to give away and 
rejoices in "the luxury of doing good." 

The lesson of thrift is one that Americans have yet to learn, 
and the war will do at least one good thing if it is the means 
of teaching this lesson to the people generally. In Switzerland 
fifty-five per cent of the inhabitants have savings bank 
accounts; in the United States less than ten per cent have 
made this preparation for a rainy day. The savings per capita 
in Switzerland amount to $47.03 and in America to $4.84. 
England, France and Germany all save more per capita than 
America, or were doing so before the war, and yet it is in the 
United States that labor commands the highest wage. 

The most compelling proof of the effect of total abstinence 
in increasing material comforts comes from Russia. The 
people there have saved more in a month under prohibition 
in time of war than they could save in a year of peace when 
the vodka shops were open. A questionnaire was sent out 






60 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

by one of the Zemstvos or County Councils which covered 
many subjects, including- prohibition. The correspondents 
were from among the masses of the people and they wrote 
simply of what they saw around them. Here are a few extracts 
from their replies : "As a little river retains the water by the 
help of a dam, so by the stoppage of the sale of wine money 
is kept in the hands of its owners." "Owing to this temperance 
movement we do not feel the effects of a bad harvest." 
Another describes the results thus :' "Wonderfully good ! 
Joy everywhere! Quite habitual drunkards are well-dressed 
now and have repaired their houses." 

Tens of thousands of Russian peasants are today learning 
to emulate good old Adam and are finding that his reward is 
also theirs. Health is conserved, material comfort increased, 
and there comes into a man's heart a new feeling of self-respect 
when he is not only able to provide for his own necessities but 
sometimes to be of use to others. 

In short, true temperance, in the broad sense of self-control, 
is recompensed even in this life by a "ten times double gain 
of happiness." 



XI 
PORTIA ON THE POWER OF HABIT 

"I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I zvill be married to a sponge." 

Portia, the heiress of Belmont, is besieged by suitors. 
From Naples and the Palatinate, from France and England, 
from Germany and Morocco, they come to pay her homage 
and to seek her hand. Not alone on account of her wealth is 
she desirable; she has all the qualities that go to make up a 
perfect woman, nobly planned. The eager suitors know how 
fair she is and in what a beautiful palace she dwells, sur- 
rounded by all the refinements and elegancies of life, but none 
of them knows as yet how rare is the jewel of her heart, 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 61 

She is not free to follow her own inclination in the choice 
of a husband, for her father's will has imposed upon her a 
strange obligation in regard to marriage. The suitors, one 
by one, are required to choose among three caskets, respec- 
tively of gold, silver and lead. Whoever selects the one that 
contains her picture will win the incomparable Portia herself. 

"Is it not hard, Nerissa," she says to her waiting maid, 
"that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?" This damsel, 
in spite of her inferior position, is excellent company for Por- 
tia, lively and quick-witted and withal not a bad judge of men. 
Although it seems that fate must decide who her husband 
is to be, Portia takes pleasure in discussing the various suit- 
ors 'with Nerissa and characterizing them in her own incisive 
and witty way in a few brief sentences. 

There is the Neapolitan who does nothing but talk of his 
horse, and the County Palatine who cannot smile at a merry 
tale and is as bad as a death's head with a bone in his mouth. 
The young baron of England cannot speak her language nor 
she his, so he is no better than a dumb show, and the French- 
man is so excitable that he will fence with his own shadow. 

"How like you the young German," asks Nerissa, "the duke 
of Saxony's nephew?" "Very vilely in the morning when he 
is sober," replies the young lady, "and most vilely in the after- 
noon when he is drunk. When he is best he is a little worse 
than a man and when he is worst he is little better than a 
beast. An the worst fall that ever fell I hope I shall make 
shift to go without him." 

The maid reminds her that if he offers to choose and 
chooses the right casket she will be obliged to accept him or 
break the condition of the will. "Therefore," says Portia, "for 
fear of the worst I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine 
on the contrary casket, for, if the devil be within and that 
temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any- 
thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge." 

There is a great deal about liquor in Shakespeare. The 
alcohol habit had become very prominent in hrs time and no 
picture of life would have been complete without it. He allows 



62 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

us to look into the taverns and hear the talk there, often 
coarse enough, though seasoned with plenty of wit. He makes 
us acquainted with a Falstaff to whom sack is as the very- 
breath of life, and renders him so amusing that we find our- 
selves glozing over his offences. But anon he gives us in 
some pithy, trenchant sentence such as Portia's, a clear view 
of alcohol's baneful influence. Its victim is at his best a little 
worse than a man and at his worst but little better than a 
beast. 

This shameful description suits thousands of young men 
today, many of them from the "best" homes, like the nephew 
of the duke. Born into "good society" they are not fit to 
mingle with it but belong more properly with the brutes. And 
why? Because they have allowed one evil habit to grow on 
them. Henry James, the psychologist, says : "Could the young 
but realize how soon they will become mere walking bundles 
of habits they would give more heed to their conduct while 
in the plastic state. The drunken Rip Van Winkle in Jefferson's 
play excuses himself for every fresh dereliction by saying, 
I'll not count this time.' Well, he may not count it, and a 
kind Heaven may not count it, but it is being counted 
none the less. Down among the nerve cells and fibres the 
molecules are counting it, registering and storing it up to be 
used against him when the next temptation comes. Nothing 
we ever do is in strict literalness wiped out." 

Since, then, he is destined to be a creature of habit, why 
does not the young man definitely choose and cultivate good 
habits at the start of his career, instead of so often thought- 
lessly falling under the dominion of bad ones? 

Portia expresses in very strong language the fatal power 
of alcohol but there is no exaggeration in what she says. If 
the devil himself were within the casket and in choosing it this 
man would receive one glass of wine, he would take the fiend to 
get the fire-water. A drunkard of our own day, presumably 
ignorant that Shakespeare had already described his case, was 
heard to say virtually the same thing. He asserted that if the 
bottomless pit yawned before him and there were a glass of 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 63 

whisky at his elbow, and he knew that on taking the one he 
would be hurled into the other, he would nevertheless most 
assuredly drink. Such is the awful passion that alcohol 
awakes, the fearful bondage which it imposes on its victims. 
Such a man Portia would never dream of marrying and therein 
she shows her strong common sense. 

Many a girl, however, does not take Portia's view. She 
will give herself to a man who is known to have this fatal 
fault in the hope of reforming him. She is sure that her 
influence will be able to keep him straight. If she understood 
ever so little of the psychology of alcoholism she would see 
she is running a desperate risk. The alcoholic is diseased, 
and more than that, his disease is a mental one. 

There cannot be any right living except as a result of right 
thinking, for "as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." One 
effect of alcohol is so to blunt the intellectual and moral nature 
that a man cannot think truly, cannot discriminate clearly 
between right and wrong, does not see his failing as normal 
people do, but looks upon it as excusable weakness. 

The girl says he has made her the most solemn promises 
to reform, and she believes "his words are bonds, his oaths are 
oracles." But he will probably forget his promises, for alcohol 
affects memory and indeed sometimes destroys it. The vic- 
tim of liquor forgets everything except the fact that he wants 
a drink. 

She says he loves her and this will be sufficient to enable 
him to leave "the primrose path of dalliance" and walk "the 
steep and thorny way to heaven." But alcohol also affects the 
emotions and it is a psychological fact that those which are 
the last acquired are the first to be lost. The altruistic feelings 
such as love and the sense of obligation towards others are 
impaired sooner than any and the man is then ruled by the 
primitive animal impulses. 

There is not a single function of the brain with which 
alcohol does not interfere. Take for instance, that of percep- 
tion. The alcoholic cannot judge aright of his simplest acts 



64 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

because his brain is out of order. He does not mean, perhaps, 
to give that cruel blow; he cannot gauge its force. He does 
not mean to tell that untruth ; he does it because his impressions 
are incorrect. He is a man with a mental disease, more 
dangerous than many a lunatic. 

The effect of alcohol on the will is known to everyone. The 
confirmed alcoholic simply has no will. Will power involves 
attention and he cannot attend. He is even liable to drop 
what he holds in his hand for lack of being able to give atten- 
tion to what he is doing. Again — will presupposes memory, for 
the course one wills to pursue must be kept before the mind. 
The drunkard's memory, as we have just seen, cannot be depended 
on, so for this further reason his will is inoperative. 

Indeed, impairment of will power is one of the very first 
effects of this poison alcohol which, as has well been said, 
"subdues the physical citadel of the higher life." The brain 
centers connected with volitional effort simply have not the 
power of doing sustained work. The cells are injured and are 
also suffering from lack of nourishment ; in other words, they 
are starved and poisoned at the same time. How dare any 
girl entrust her happiness to a man who has a brain in this 
condition and whose mind and character must inevitably be 
affected thereby? 

Of course it is hard, cruelly hard, to cast out of one's life 
an affection that has become a part and parcel of it. As Portia 
herself says : "If to do were as easy as to know what were 
good to do, poor men's cottages had been prince's palaces. I 
can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than be 
one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching." But, after 
all, which is harder, to make this sacrifice at the dictates of 
common sense, or to live the life of a drunkard's wife with its 
hopeless misery and shame? 

The sentimentalism that talks about marrying a man to 
reform him is a miserable mistake ; it is "the guiled shore to 
a most dangerous sea." Girls might do a vast amount of good, 
however, if they would deny their society to the men who 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 65 

refuse to come up to their standard. They might deter many 
from starting- on the downward road. As everybody knows, 
prevention is better than cure, as well as a great deal easier. 

No one who has grown "wise with the knowledge of his 
own frail heart" will be likely to think harshly of the drunkard. 
We must "forbear to judge, for we are sinners all." As Por- 
tia says : 

"In the course of justice none of us 
Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy, 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy." 

It is blessed to tell the helpless one of the Divine mercy 
and grace ; of Him who is able to save to the uttermost, and 
who "to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in 
despair." The Christian woman will welcome any opportunity 
of helping the one who has been overtaken in this sad fault; 
she will pity him and pray for him, but if she values her own 
happiness and realizes her responsibility to future generations, 
she will marry him — never. 



XII 
HAMLET ON THE NATIONAL ISSUE 

"It takes from our achievements." 

Hamlet and his friends are waiting for the ghost. It has 
already appeared twice to those who were keeping guard on 
previous nights, and now the prince eagerly awaits the hour 
when the spirit held his wont to walk. However, he is quiet 
and self-controlled and can calmly talk of other things mean- 
while. 

As they pace the platform of the Castle of Elsinore, the 
Danish fortress, a flourish of trumpets is heard and guns are 
fired. Horatio, Hamlet's college friend, is a visitor. He has 



66 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

come from Wittenberg to attend the funeral of the late king. 
He asks the meaning of this demonstration and the prince 
replies : 

"The king doth wake tonight and takes his rouse, 
Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; 
And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, 
The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out 
The triumph of his pledge." 

To "wake" in those days meant to hold a late revel, and a 
"rouse" was a large glass from which healths were drunk. 
When all together emptied the rouse there was then said to 
be a ca-rouse. Unless the deep glasses were completely 
emptied the health was not properly drunk, so a carouse involved 
the idea of disposing of a large quantity. 

An old book describes a wassail thus : "A merry cup (rit- 
ually composed, deckt and filled with country liquor) passing 
about among neighbours, meeting or entertaining each other, 
and commonly called the wassail-bol." 

The up-spring was a German dance with which it was 
customary to conclude the ancient merrymakings. As by the 
time it was reached people had had a good deal to drink, it 
became the wildest of the dances and thus Shakespeare 
describes it as "swaggering." 

Altogether, these few lines give an impression of decidedly 
undignified proceedings for a royal court. Neither was the 
poet exaggerating in the least when he penned it. There have 
come down to us some letters from this very time, telling 
about the king who was reigning in Denmark during Shakes- 
peare's life. The writer says that this Christian IV "feasted 
my lord once, and it lasted from eleven of the clock till 
towards evening; during which time the king began thirty- 
five healths. The king was taken away at last in his chair." 

Again we read in another book of the period about the 
Dane in London who was so fond of liquor that "he would 
carowse out of .his Boote." Such was the reputation of Den- 
mark in the sixteenth century. Hamlet is a man of extreme 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 67 

refinement and he heartily despises such self-indulgence and 
coarseness. He sees they are not only harmful to the indi- 
vidual who thus gives the rein to appetite, but also a discredit 
to the country. He does not hesitate to say so: 

"To my mind, though I am native here 
And to the manner born, — it is a custom 
More honor'd in the breach than the observance." 

In other words it is a custom that would be better broken 
than perpetuated. Hamlet does not claim to be a rigid 
abstainer himself, and he will offer wine to his guests in a 
social way as a matter of course, for he is "to the manner 
born," but the impression is forced on him that the liquor 
habit is inimical to his country's welfare, and he expresses 
it in these terms to his friend Horatio : 

"This heavy-headed revel, east and west, 
Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations ; 
They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase 
Soil our addition ; and indeed it takes 
From our achievements, though performed at height, 
The pith and marrow of our attribute." 

Translated into common parlance Hamlet's statement is 
virtually this : Our liquor drinking gives Denmark a bad rep- 
utation on every hand. The people of other nations .call us 
drunkards; they fasten on us the title of swine, which soils 
our good name. However high our achievements this drink 
habit detracts from the glory of them and robs us of the most 
essential attribute of national character. 

Hamlet is beyond everything else a philosopher and his 
friend's question has started a train of thought which is well 
worthy of consideration by all patriots. He goes on to com- 
pare the character of a nation with that of an individual. He 
says that a man may be adorned with virtues as pure as grace, 
and yet "the stamp of one defect" may spoil everything. It 
is like alloy which throws suspicion on the sterling worth of 
the metal. 



68 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

Though he wrote thus about Denmark, one cannot doubt 
that Shakespeare's thought was in reality for his own beloved 
land. England had only recently acquired the unenviable 
reputation of being a drinking nation. "The Compleat Gentle- 
man," published in 1622, has this statement: "Within these 
fifty or threescore years it was a rare thing with us to see a 
drunken man, our nation carrying the name of the most sober 
and temperate of any other in the world. But since we had 
to do in the quarrel of the Netherlands the custom of drinking 
and pledging healthes was brought over into England, wherein 
let the Dutch be their owne judges, if we equall them not, 
yea, I think rather excelf them." 

Then as now, this "dear, dear land, dear for her reputation 
throughout the world," had spoilt her gold with this alloy. 

Shakespeare could not have put what he wanted to say 
about this vice into the mouth of a more weighty witness than 
Hamlet. He is a scholar saturated with the learning of the 
University. He is versed in law and history and is well 
acquainted with the principles of art, but most of all he is 
interested in philosophy. He is incomparably the deepest 
thinker in all the galaxy of Shakespearian characters. It is 
fitting that he should be our final witness and should have 
the last word, and it is his conviction that this custom of drink- 
ing would be better broken than observed. How can it ever 
be broken, seeing the hold it has upon our race, except by 
National Constitutional Prohibition? 

Alas, alas, that England did not long ago pay heed to the 
warning of her greatest poet! How much more brightly 
would her glory shine today were she free from "the stamp 
of one defect." It does indeed shine brightly in spite of all. 
She has been in most respects more than worthy of her mag- 
nificent past. They said her civilization was decadent, they 
said her empire was ready to crumble into dust, but they will 
never say it again. The world knows England today and 
honors with a deeper respect than ever that "little body with 
a mighty heart." Never in all her history has she risen to 
such a height ; never has heroism been so general ; never have 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 69 

all classes been so welded together in a noble purpose ; never 
has woman taken her place as fellow-worker with man and his 
equal in courage and capacity as is the case today. 

But England might have been even greater still. She might 
have led the whole world in a crusade against a more deadly 
foe than Germany; she might have ushered in an age of 
"sweeter manners, purer laws." How different it has been! 
The terrible, trenchant indictments of such men as Arthur 
Mee show what that one defect has meant for Great Britain 
during the war. Bitter it is to transcribe it but let the truth 
be told. He says : 

"The drink trade in these fifty years has deprived this 
country of man power equivalent to the whole British army 
under arms. 

"The services rendered to Germany by our drink trade 
equal the destruction of our total energies for a hundred days. 

"We have a trade that robs us of men and hinders us in 
all we do, and we have let this trade use up, since the war 
began, the labor of lifting sixty million tons. It took a hun- 
dred thousand men a generation to set up the Great Pyramid, 
but if we had pulled it down and set it up again three times 
since the war began, that would have taken less labor than 
the shifting of this drink stuff that ships pour everlastingly 
into our docks. Think of the London docks, the greatest 
gathering place of goods in the world ; the whole earth pours 
its treasures into them. Well, every year this drink trade 
wastes more tons of precious stuff than the port of London 
handles." 

Of a surety there is no enemy so deadly as the one within 
her borders. 

"Nought to us shall rue 
If England to itself do rest but true." 

And what of America? She, too, has risen to a splendid 
height of sacrifice in order that liberty may be preserved for 
the nations of the earth, small as well as great, that "govern- 
ment of the people, by the people and for the people may not 



70 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

perish from the earth." Her sons are going and still will go 
to fight democracy's battle on a distant shore. And yet, while 
fathers and mothers are surrendering their dearest at their 
country's call and doing it without a murmur, while noble 
American boys are gladly making the supreme sacrifice, while 
thousands of hearts that have cherished love's young dream 
must perforce be crushed by the news that will come across 
the sea, while the whole nation bows in one sacrament of sor- 
row, the brewer, forsooth, is to be exempt from prohibitory 
legislation, the saloonkeeper is to continue selling and the 
drinker may still drain his glass and smack his lips in insolent 
defiance of the American people in their hour of agony. Verily 
that the country can tolerate the existence of such a traffic 
at such a time does "take from our achievements, though per- 
formed at height, the pith and marrow of our attribute." 

Thank God there are clear signs that it will not long be 
thus. The conviction of Hamlet is being shared by multitudes 
in the United States today. Men of light and leading are. 
emphasizing the necessity of complete national prohibition. 
Many who have not hitherto taken any great share in the 
work of the temperance reform have been led by the exigencies 
of the situation to speak out with no uncertain sound. A 
thousand men prominent in intellectual circles, including uni- 
versity presidents, well-known editors, economists, and special- 
ists along various lines, have signed a memorial in favor of 
war prohibition. They are determined that the stamp of one 
defect shall be removed and that this alloy shall no longer 
depreciate the splendid metal of American national character. 

Side by side there float today the Stars and Stripes and the 
Union Jack. Side by side march the sons of America and 
Britain in the common struggle for world liberty. "Backed 
with God and with the seas, which He hath given for 'fence 
impregnable," they go forward with high hope and holy cour- 
age. But the hope will be more quickly realized, and the day 
of victory when it dawns will be a brighter day, if these great 
nations speedily determine to entwine with the two flags they 



SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 71 

love, the white banner of prohibition. Then will they be able 
to say to each other with a stronger assurance than ever 
before : 

"In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, 
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace." 



FINALE 



It was Shakespeare's object to "hold, as it were, the mirror 
up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own 
image, and the very age and body of the time his form and 
pressure." We have gazed awhile into his mirror, and perhaps 
next to our marvel at his magic, the chief impression that 
remains with us is that, after all, human nature does not 
change with the centuries. 

Every one of the persons to whom we have listened is the 
type of a class commonly known to us today. Let us take one 
last look at them. There they stand, the five witnesses for 
alcohol's defense — Caliban, liquor's confessed slave; Stephano, 
brandishing his bottle that he thinks the king of cure-alls; 
Falstarr", the pleasure-lover; Sir Toby, the advocate of per- 
sonal liberty ; Lady Macbeth, the criminal whose haggard face 
speaks eloquently of the gnawings of the "worm of conscience." 

On the other side we see Malvolio, the official representa- 
tive of law and order; Cassio, testifying out of the bitterness 
of a blighted career how great an enemy is alcohol to mind 
and character ; Adam, whose well-spent life gives special force 
to his words ; Portia, revealing the instinct of a well-poised 
woman ; and Hamlet, the philosopher, expressing in calm and 
measured language the conviction born of careful thought. 

It is not contended for a moment that these latter are 
exemplary specimens of humanity. They have their faults, 
some of them very serious ones. Neither are those on the 
opposite side in all cases devoid of admirable traits. Still, the 
contrast between the two groups is sufficiently suggestive, and 



72 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 

if their modern counterparts could be collected and the Pros 
here in America could be confronted with the Cons, comment 
would be unnecessary. 

It is the duty of every man and woman to form an opinion 
on the vital questions of the age. All prejudices should be 
rigidly excluded. The first thing is to listen to the evidence ; 
the next is to weigh it impartially. In thus considering the 
case of Alcohol let us seek to obey the injunction of our friend 
and counsellor, William Shakespeare: 

"Be just and fear not ; 

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be THY COUNTRY'S, 
THY GOD'S, AND TRUTH'S." 



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